Couple Shades of Taylor
by Waterslave Hotfish
Summary: Jason Taylor makes one screw up and loses his military career. Only a deal with Satan himself, Christian Grey, will let him keep his daughter in his life. Complications arise when Taylor falls for the housekeeper and wants to save the most innocent of Christian's conquests. How far can he go without sacrificing what's most important to himself?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer time!

I don't own these characters. Who owns them and how much they're owned you can decide for yourself. E. came up with the names (Taylor's daughter's mother's, and any other character or name not given in the books). So I guess we'll go with that.

I'll try to keep canon as much as possible. If something isn't stated one way or the other, it's fair game to be used.

Since I've been asked a few times my motivation, allow me to share. From a writer's point of view, this will be a challenge for me. I favor writing in past-tense as an omniscient third person. Changing to present tense first-person would be tricky enough. But add in the element of a man's POV and you've got something I've never done. I've also got the challenge of trying to keep my personal feelings out of the story. Like more readers of 50 Shades, I have strong feelings about the trilogy.

I think the relationship of Christian and Ana from the outside could be enlightening. What would someone close to the situation, closer than anyone but the two in it, see? Someone who is objective? Who has no motives, nothing to gain or lose by sharing with the reader what he sees? Will it still be romantic? Will it be something sinister?

What kind of business man is Christian? Shrewd of laid back? How do his employees find out about his lifestyle, which they will invariably learn about? Are they in any way involved in his activities? Since Mrs. Jones cleans his toys, we know it's no secret. Why does Christian lack any real friends? Why are his two primary employees, Mrs. Jones and Taylor, so devoted to him that they are willing to forgo their own lives, families, and friends, to be ready at a moment's notice to do what he wants, 24 hours a day? Why was Christian so desperate to keep the police from any involvement in the situation with Leila? Why did he seem to become a magnet for bad events happening after meeting Ana?

I will follow the books and show what Taylor sees according to the source material. Let's consider this to be an experiment of sorts.

Also I'm not using beta readers nor am I running this through any of my programs to check for redundancies, cliches, etc.. This is just raw writing, posted as it comes out. I don't have that time to devote to a piece for . Check my blog, .com, or my Twitter, alysbcohen, or my website, (I'm so original) to see what else I'm working on, or some beta reviews at book/show/17238992-sacred-blood. Sacred Blood and my regular job have my priority, and this piece happens in what spare time I can eek out in the middle of the night, when I am most prone to spelling and grammatical errors and the least likely to worry about it.

With all that said, enjoy Couple Shades of Taylor! And please do comment, favorite, follow, and share. Those make my hour, especially comments.

* * *

Shit. My hand shakes as I sign on the line. This is it. A decade as a Army soldier, all out the window because I fucked up and forgot to lock up my ammo separate from my side arm. They don't care Marisa told me she and her new boy toy want to take my daughter to live in Korea and filed a petition to take her away. Maybe they shouldn't. Excuses are like assholes, and I just got mine handed to me.

At least it's not a court marshall, and better than a dishonorable discharge. Either of those would have ruined my chances at any custody that could keep my daughter in the country. But there's no pension, no unemployment for a man like me, a thirty-two-year-old soon-to-be ex military man, father of a five-year-old, in a place without enough jobs even for those who don't have discharges on their record.

My end of the custody order is to provide health insurance. TriCare won't cover Sophia now. How can I pay child support? Marisa won't even try to get a job, and her string of boyfriends are more like flavors of the week, and now she wants to take my precious girl overseas with one. If I don't pay, my kid will suffer more. Washington isn't too kind on dads whose kids' moms go on welfare. We're the bad guys if we can't afford to pay. The moms aren't judged if they don't work the way I'll be judged if I can't find a job. I can't afford an attorney outside of the military.

I'm probably going to lose my daughter.

I stand and face my CO. Everything is a haze. This has to be a nightmare. I hand over my creds and he hands me some docs. I snap to attention and salute. He offers me his hand and says something. I don't hear what. My heart is pounding so hard I can't hear anything but my thoughts screaming at me. _You fucking fool! _

The couple hundred yards to my car, I don't even remember. I guess I started the car. It's moving, and I'm driving through a fog, through the gates of McChord, onto the street. My brain must have gone on auto pilot. At least it stopped at the reds and let me park without crashing.

I tremble and stab the door to my bachelor apartment instead of getting the key into the lock. It takes a few times, but I get it in and turn. The tumblers falling into place could be a bullet into my head, for all I care. A bullet into my head...

Cold cranberry juice waits in the fridge next to a bottle of vodka. Not much else today. Marisa has been withholding visits out of spite. My attorney hasn't done a lot of good. Maybe I'm no more fucked in court than I thought I was.

_A bullet into my head. _

I grab the vodka and juice. Last night's tumbler is still on the coffee table. I fill it with vodka and splash in some cranberry just so I can say it's a Cape Cod and I'm not really drinking alone. The yellowing light through the closed blinds don't help make me feel less by myself.

I head to my bedroom and pull out a couple boxes. I unlock them both, and from one I pull out my good ol' Smith and Wesson Governor. Beautiful gun. Powerful. I've respected it. From the other I pull out a single bullet.

These stupid slacks. I can't stand the fabric against my skin. It's too familiar, a painful reminder that I fucked up. But who cares. My kid will hurt more going away. Still wearing my uniform, I head back to the living room and flop down in the couch, and load the bullet into a single chamber.

There's a black pen and old envelope on the end table. I grab them.

_I, Jason Taylor, bequ_

Whatever. I crumple it up. Whatever survivor's benefits there are would go to Marisa no matter what, and I just have to hope she spends some on my Sophie-bug. I can't take care of her now, she's going to be taken away, so at least maybe this way, there's something for her.

_I love you, Buggy._

Those words seem right.

I down the Cape Cod in one large gulp and chase it with vodka straight from the bottle. Good shit. My head's swimming in a matter of seconds. Just what I need.

The revolver feels good in my hand, balanced and cool. Power. I've got control. I can do this or not. Yeah, better do it before my liquid courage wears off. It won't hurt for more than maybe a second. The ring of the barrel comfortably fits against my temple.

_Click._

My luck. Why didn't I load it all? I check which chamber and close it again.

Sunlight streams through the door as someone walks in. I look up, blinded.

"God damn, Taylor, what the fuck are you doing?" My CO, no, ex-CO, barges across my living room and wrenches my Governor away. "You've got a kid, you fool!"

"Marisa's taking her away. I can't get job l-like..." My stomach fills with bile that threatens to come up.

Mike keeps my weapon and storms into my room like he's got a right. When he gets back, he's got my box. I don't complain. I don't care. He sits down across from me and hold my cargo beside him.

"Listen, I came here to help you. A request came across my desk this morning, and I don't need to send one of the other guys. Are you familiar with Christian Grey?"

"Who?" I don't know if I should know the name. I burp. Vodka burps don't taste too good.

Mike shakes his head and runs his hand over his bald head. "Some paranoid pipsqueak, owns a company his ol' man set up for him a few years ago. Doesn't have any idea how much of a hand his daddy really has in the operations. Every few months he asks for a new bodyguard and I keep finding people to send his way. Pay's good, but Jack - that's the most recent one who quit - told me the guy's got weird habits. But it's a job until you can get something better."

My head falls back and I rub my face hard. "I couldn't pass a check for something like that, not now. You know it."

"Like hell!" Mike roared. "If I couldn't pull the fucking strings to get you in, I wouldn't have wasted my time! You interview at nine tomorrow, and that's an order."

"You can't boss me anymore," I sneer.

"You were trying to kill yourself. One word from me and you're going to the psych ward. I couldn't cover for you on this, but I can get you this job, Son."

I laugh. He's not my dad, but Mike's a good man. He's right. "Thanks, man." I burp loud.

Mike stands with my box. "I'm taking these tonight. And here's the address." He flicks a business card my way. "If you're not there fifteen minutes early, I'm having your ass hauled in for an eval. I'm worried about you, Kid."

"Yeah. Thanks." I close my eyes. Potato vodka always makes me drowsy. A hand drops on my head and rubs it.

"I'm heading out," he tells me softly. "I'm sure the Mrs. won't mind if you come out for chow tonight. Dinner's at seven. If you're not there, I'll bring some back. Your kid needs you. Don't let that witch of an ex drive you to this because you made one mistake. Don't make another you can't recover from."

My eyes are still closed when he walks out and closes the door. I turn over and lay down on the couch. I don't remember raising my feet onto it before I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know why I'm feeling like I drank all night. Every inhale makes my head want to explode. The pressure is intense. Maybe it's just stress. I don't want to call Marisa or my parents until later. My dad's going to be so let down.

I pick a deep red tie to go with my dark grey suit and knot it. It's probably fine. I don't want to look at myself right now. Half hour left before I need to leave. Well, that's just a bit more time to go over the file again. If I get this job, I'll owe Mike everything.

So this Christian guy is twenty-five. His photo's not much different than a glamor shot. Is that mascara? He'd be a good looking guy anyway, the chiseled sort the ladies lust after. But I really think he's got mascara on. Well, whatever floats his boat.

The next page just gives information about the business. The guy's clueless. He shows up and looks over some expense reports. His dad really does run everything behind the scenes. This Grey kid sounds more and more like the boy in school whose parents raise a stink he didn't get all A's just for existing. I doubt he has any idea his dad's got any part of the company.

Layout of his condo, stuff on his helicopter... Did he really need to give it a name? Especially Charlie Tango?

The last section is the most interesting. The guy's a kinkster. Whips and chains, has a whole room of the stuff. Again, whatever floats his boat, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of him parading his latest partner around while security detail is there. That would be me, if I have the job. Last couple guys report seeing it a lot. Yeah, I don't know many guys who want to see their bosses naked and pile-driving someone in handcuffs.

Well, it can't hurt to get there early. So I head on out and blast some Bon Jovi on speakers of my older Civic, trying to distract myself from the uncomfortable feeling I should be heading to the base. I still can't believe I was discharged. This is a weird dream, right? I sigh. Yeah, I didn't think so.

I find a parking space, glance over the file again, hide it under the passenger seat, and head on up.

The elevator has a weird smell, but I make myself ignore what it could be. Outside the unit door hangs some funky artwork. I guess he's not worried anyone will come along and steal them. It reminds me of some pictures a bunch of base buddies and I chuckled at that a former president painted of himself in the tub and shower. I hope, for the ex-president's sake, those pictures never leak to the general public. I think this Grey guy might have done these paintings outside his apartment. They're not really any better.

Well, here goes nothing. I press the little buzzer, shaped like a little pink mound, and I refuse to believe it would be a part of the female anatomy.

An attractive woman no older than me opens the door. Her long hair is pulled back into a bun. Her high-waisted grey skirt shows off her figure well. I close my mouth and swallow.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Jason Taylor, here for an interview with Mr. Grey."

The woman raises an eyebrow and smiles. "I'm Gail Jones, but I'm called Mrs. Jones around here. I'm Mr. Grey's house keeper. Come on in." She steps aside lets me inside.

The room around me is very institutional. Stark white with more bad artwork. I've been in hospital rooms that have been more inviting. I guess the guy is trying to channel minimalism or an early Steve Jobs.

"Mr. Taylor, I've been instructed to have you wait in the living room and to tell you nothing else."

This is weird. Not allowed to tell me anything? I follow her to another room. My eyes dart between her ass and the sterile environment. Is her employer tapping her too?

"Wait here," she instructs me with a coy smile.

I take a seat on a white couch and adjust my jacket. Several minutes pass. A clock on the wall points to 8:55. Another ten, fifteen pass. Mrs. Jones silently brings me a bottle of water and gives me another smile. Just as I start taking a drink, a man in very short, tight cut-off denim snorts walks in leading a naked woman crawling on all fours, a red ball gag in her mouth. She has a harness around her neck and torso, and the leash is in the man's hand. He smacks her bare butt with a riding crop, and I spew my mouthful of water.

I look anywhere but at them. The white floor, the stark walls, the bad art, Mrs. Jones' sympathetic eyes. I can't really take any of it in. What the hell? I hear him unzip his shorts.

"Keep your eyes on my face at all times," he snaps.

I do as he orders, and can't help noticing that he better know how to put some motion in the ocean. His face is stern, and I feel my eyes are going to fall out. The man's naked! Is this a job interview or is there a camera somewhere? Ashton Kutcher's around a corner somewhere, right? A civilians' series of Punk'd? Oh god why am I a civilian now?

"You can't guard me if you don't look at me."

I stare are him. Do I want to protect a guy who'd do this for an interview? And what about the woman on the floor?

"I will be back shortly." He yanks on the leash and leads the woman out.

Mrs. Jones sighs. "Trial by fire. If you want a job here, you deal with it. He likes to be master of his domain. In his opinion, that domain is the universe."

I shake my head and exhale hard. "I've got a daughter. If I have to put up with that for a job, I'll do it. She needs support money. Who was that woman?"

"Her name is Leila, and she is Mr. Grey's latest sub, or submissive." She smooths her hair and skirt. "I need to get back to the kitchen and get breakfast started. Expect to join us."

I didn't have a chance to reply. She walked out just as he walked back in, dressed quicker than I thought possible in a full suit. But he didn't have on socks. I saw that when he sat down and crossed an ankle onto his other knee.

"Sit," he orders, and gestures to the seat behind me.

I obey, disturbed that I think of it as obeying.

"I read over the referrals, and dug up more information. Your boss sure went out of his way to hide your discharge."

My mouth dried. "Please, I need to take care of my-"

"Daughter. Sophia. About to start kindergarten. Bitter custody battle going on."

How the hell did he know this? My body chilled from the inside out. I don't think he needed a bodyguard. I needed one to protect me from him. My little girl needed one.

He smirks. "Don't look so shocked. And unclench your hands."

I glanced down at by tightly-balled fists and jerkily open them, resting my palms on my knees. "Sorry." I barely got the words out. My throat is so tight. How does he know about a confidential case?

"So you're one of_ those _dads." His smooth voice further cooled me. I can tell he realized my desperation and he knew the ball is in his court.

I swallow hard. My throat scratches like large-grit sandpaper. "Yes, Mr. Grey." I can barely manage the words.

Christian tightens the corner of his mouth and narrows his eyes at me. I can't tell if he's thinking, or if he's not liking me. I hold his stare. Too much rides on this game of chicken. I don't know if he wants to win or wants me to hold the challenge. My fingers begin digging into my knees.

"Listen, Taylor, I'm tired of getting my guards trained and them leaving. So here's what's on the table." He bounces his foot casually and raises his eyebrows. "I need a guard who won't run so quick. Someone who will respect my boundaries, but get rid of his own. You have no opinion on me or my activities at any time unless I give them to you. Everything that goes on here is subject to non-disclosure. Can you do this?"

You? Does this mean he's thinking about hiring me? "Yes," I choke out.

"In return, your salary package will include the benefits you need for your daughter, your attorney fees, judge fees, private school tuition, and a different apartment. How can you see her in a single-bedroom sha-"

"How do you know about my apa-"

He holds a hand up to silence me and shakes his head.

I close my mouth and swallow again. Judge fees? Does he mean bribes? Mike said this guy's dad is pulling the strings on the company and Christian has no idea, thinks he did it all himself. But I don't know about that. He's got me beat into submission without laying a hand on me. Maybe he's played his dad and the old man doesn't know it. Master of his domain, or master of manipulation? I'm hanging on to his every word, I don't like it, and I know I won't say no. I think I'm dealing with the devil himself.

"You do not ask questions," he tells me, his voice hard at steel. "You can request answers, but ask nothing. See, Taylor, a question demands an answer. No one makes a demand on me. A request is my choice. Do you understand?"

This guy's a control freak.

"Yes."

He raises an eyebrow expecting more. I realize in an instant what it is, as if one of my superiors had screamed, "Yes what?!"

"Yes...Sir?" Sir? Yes, that should be good. Shit, did that sound like a question?

"That, or Mr. Grey." He doesn't chastise me for questioning, so I guess I said it okay. "Do you want to accept the position?"

Want to? Hell no. I don't like the talk of bribes and Sophia being in the middle of this. If I say yes, I've got a chance to keep her in my life and make sure she's supported and has a good education and doesn't end up in goddamned Korea on the other side of the planet. But if I say no, I can't fight for her at all and she's gone. She's everything to me. I love her enough that there's nothing I wouldn't do. Kill myself, kill the bastard in front of me, deal with the bronze-headed devil. Too bad there's no room to negotiate.

I sit up straighter and take a deep breath. "I don't think I have any choice in the matter, Mr. Grey."

He chuckled and nodded. "That's just how I like it."

Bastard. Yes, he knows he has all the power here. Tossing Sophia in the middle was part of his plan. I think he had decided on that before I got here. If I fuck up or leave, and he can bribe judges, she's a goner.

The kitchen reminds me of an operating room. Large, pristine, too much white. Give me a straight jacket. I might need it by the end of the week. Week? I'll be lucky to keep my sanity until the end of the day.

Mrs. Jones sits a few feet away from me at the stainless steel island on which she'd finished preparing an early lunch. After taking a tray to my new boss, she served me without my asking, and herself last. The order was so natural I suspected the boss didn't have much respect for women. There's no reason she couldn't have readies two plates at once, or that she should have served me at all. I'd have helped, if she'd asked.

My plate sits untouched. Any appetite I had defenestrated itself when the door had opened to allow me into the blazing bright pit of hell I had no idea existed so high in the sky of Seattle. I can't stop re-reading the copy of the non-disclosure agreement he'd given me. No escape from this. Air tight. I step a toe out of line and my ass will end up in a jail cell faster than...well, faster than I can make an analogy. I'm in over my head.

"You need to eat, Sir." Mrs. Jones points to my plate. "Mr. Grey gets angry when we don't."

I pick up the fork and spear a piece of the chicken. For this kind woman's sake, I take a bite. Wow. How the hell? It nearly melts like butter. Can chicken do that? I guess so.

"This is amazing, Mrs. Jones." It is the truth. I knock the pages aside and start to eat, my appetite back in full force. I hadn't eaten the dinner Mike brought to me the night before. My stomach decides to make up for it now. "Oh, and please, none of that 'Sir' stuff. Just call me Jason."

She smiles. "Call me Elizabeth, or Beth. That's my middle name. But when he's around we must be formal. Things must be his way around here." Elizabeth drops her eyes to her plate and exhaled. For a brief second, her calm demeanor falters and she tenses. Quick as that second passes she raises her head high and glares at me. She doesn't smile. "It would do you good to not question his ways. What he says, you do. Stop thinking for yourself around him. He'll decide your thoughts. Just be pleasant and have no will for yourself. Be a yes-man. That's how you'll get by."

I think calling my dad and letting him know his son got kicked out of the military is going to be more pleasant than staying in his asylum. Only my love for my daughter keeps me rooted to the spot until the master gives his new servant permission to leave. Well, two can play at this game, and if it's the last thing I do, I will win.

(*For my non-US readers, the presidential painting are real. Look up "George W. Bush shower painting photos")


	3. Chapter 3

This is bull shit. But I can't complain. The new apartment he's moving me too is nicer and bigger, but I didn't get any say in it and didn't know about it until movers showed up earlier today to start packing my stuff. Yesterday I interview, take the job, and now I'm being moved. Does this guy have some spare apartments somewhere just waiting? Is there a crew of people hanging around to move people around? I want out.

There's still a picture of Sophia on the wall. I take it down and stare at her green eyes and her curly brown hair. Marisa is a witch of a woman, but beautiful. Sophia took after her mother's looks. I hope she take after my personality. I keep the picture with me and take it to the car and head over to the new apartment again.

On the other end men are taking empty boxes out, but my stuff is still at my old apartment. I'm not sure what is happening.

"Hey, what's going on here?" I ask to a couple people pushing past me.

"Are you you Jason Taylor?" A woman holds a clipboard to me and brushed a wisp of loose blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm Gia Matteo, interior designer. I'm here with a delivery of children's furniture and to oversee set-up of your office."

I read over the clip board. Christ on a cracker, the bastard's going to own me. I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I know he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Grey's buying me. Just as easy as he's giving all this, he can take it away. I sign on the line accepting delivery.

Fresh paint fumes fill the apartment. Through a doorway I can see light yellow walls. Sophia's favorite color. I hope the choice is coincidental. Not knowing nauseates me. At noon I'm supposed to report for work. All I want to do is find Marisa and tell her to get the hell away and take Sophia. But not to Korea. I'll call her tomorrow, my dad too, after I've got the first day out of the way.

I head into the bright room. A white enamel daybed is in front of the window with a yellow gingham bed spread. A stuffed Peter Rabbit waits at the head. I'm not a religious guy, but I pray to any deity there might be that Grey or whoever decided to theme Sophia's room with Beatrix Potter just made another lucky guess. A couple designers are hanging pictures. One of of me and Sophia that I didn't give the new boss. If I didn't need this job, I'd go deck the fucker for the depth he's gone to to spy on me.

Instead I skip checking out the office and hustle down to my car and to his apartment to report for duty.

Elizabeth answers the door, cheerful today. I think the cut of her blouse and skirt is some sort of sexy uniform, except her skirt is black today. Her blonde hair is in a bun. She's really a misses? Lucky husband.

"Come on in, Mr. Taylor." Her eyes sparkle. I'm entranced.

"Jason. Please call me Jason." The words fall out of my mouth fast enough I'm surprised they're coherent.

She cocks her head to the side. "Jason. But only when the boss isn't around. He likes formality a bit too much. Sometimes I think he's a British person in an American body."

I think he's a frightening ass masquerading as a human being, but don't tell her so.

"So where do I go today?"

"Follow me."

This is distracting. I don't know if she walks with her hips leading each step on purpose, of it that strut is natural. But it draws my attention to inappropriate places.

"Taylor," Mr. Grey snaps at me. Shit. I didn't realize we made it to his office. If looks could kill, I'd have been dead before knowing he was around. He nods to Elizabeth - Mrs. Jones in his presence - and she silently retreats.

He walks in a slow circle around me, hands behind his back. At least he's appropriately dressed for my company today, in a fine grey suit with a silver silk tie.

"Taylor, you keep your eyes above her neck. Everything below it is mine. Any woman who enters this house or my business is nothing to you. Your loyalty is to me."

"Yes, Sir." My first report for drill was easier than this. Give me a young CO spitting in my face with his screaming over this freak any day.

He took a seat behind his desk and opened a manilla folder. I stood stood watching him. In this office, with one wall made of glass and white walls, slate grey carpeting, and dark wood furniture, he looks more at ease, more human. The small fish tank and two small plants seem to be token gestures at making the place alive.

"Is your daughter's room satisfactory?" He kept his eyes on the papers in front of him.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Peter Rabbit is her favorite."

"I know." He closed the folder and held it up to me. "Here."

I slowly reach for the folder and open it. If my eyes could fall out of my skull, they'd be on the floor. Somehow I fall onto a chair instead of the ground. A custody order. Every other Saturday to me, more than I have now, and one evening a week for dinner. I've been lucky to get to talk to my little girl on the phone half as often. I didn't know she had a passport, but it's been revoked. Marisa can't even drive Sophia into Canada now. There's no chance of getting on a plane and taking her to Korea. I blink furiously to keep from crying.

Another page details my obligations. Child support based on $4,000 a month in pay. Marisa's got to be happy with the $1,500 a month she'll be getting tax free, an improvement over what she got before. I know a lot of it will go to her own luxuries, but some will take care of Sophia. Of course I've got the insurance, which is part of my pay. I turn the page to the second side and a check is paper clipped to it. Once again my eyes almost fall out. Legal custody for education is mine, and she'll go to University Child Development, a private school with tuition greater than four months' pay. The check, signed by Mr. Grey, covered it.

My apartment, insurance for my daughter, her education, all court fees...or bribes... This, on top of my pay. He's got my balls in a vice grip. One wrong move on my part and they're crushed. I'm in pain just thinking about it.

I lift my face to his. He's staring at me, smirking. "Th-thank you, Sir," I stammer. "I am in your debt."

"Don't forget it." He raises his eyebrows and raises his hand. A set of keys dangle from it, and he tosses them to me. My years of playing baseball serve me well and I catch them.

"What's this?"

Before answering, he tosses me a new Blackberry phone. "That's your leash, and the keys are to your car. You can't drive beater and expect to represent me or do what I need. They're company property, but use them as you see fit."

The phone on his desk rings, and he picks it up. "Grey speaking...Yes, all three...I'm sticking around home today, you can take care of it...Right. Bye."

Mrs. Jones raps softly on the open door. She has a tray of tea balanced on her hand. Without speaking, she lowers the tray onto his desk and pours steaming water from the pot into a large white mug. "Would you like anything else, Sir?"

Grey looks at her slowly from head to toe, his eyes lingering longer than they should had at her dress and crotch. I notice her tense slightly. Yeah, I want to punch the bastard. I wonder how he bought her off.

"Nothing I can have right now. You're dismissed."

Mrs. Jones' eyes dart to mine and quickly drop to the floor as she walks out of the room.

Grey stands. I follow his lead. He approaches me and sticks his hand out. I shake it. "Welcome to company."

The phone rings again.

"You are dismissed. Stay inside, do as you wish, until I need you." He turns his back to me and answers the phone. As fast as I can without running, I get the hell out of his presence.

Mrs. Jones perches on a barstood at the kitchen island with a small television on. Iron Man is playing. Ah, one of my favorite movies.

"I wouldn't have thought of you as a fan of this kind of movie." I shove my hands in my pockets and wait near the door.

She turns around and beckons me over with her hand and gets up. She pulls another tea cup from a cabinet and sets it down. "I have a crush on Tony Stark," she admits while dropping a spoon of loose tea into the cup and pouring water over it. Her cheeks flush. "Milk or sugar?"

"I've got a bit of a crush on Pepper, so..." I take the cup from her. "I can add my own sugar, Elizabeth. But thank you. You don't need to wait on me."

"It's what I do around here. Wait on Mr. Grey, clean what needs cleaning..." She shudders.

I furrow my brow. "What's so bad?"

She cringes and stirs her tea. "His, um... The stuff he uses doesn't clean itself," she whispers. "Keep your voice low on these matters. Intercoms in here so he can call me when he needs me.

I'm glad I didn't have tea in my mouth. It would have ended up in the counter. "He doesn't clean that shi- excuse me, that stuff himself?" I keep quiet, not surprised at this point that he spies inside his own home.

Elizabeth laughs until she nearly cries. "You think he does anything for himself? Oh no. I do everything, and I mean everything,"

I chuckle and jokingly ask, "Does everything mean getting him off when he doesn't make women ask like dogs?" As soon as I say it I realized that joke is in appropriate in her company. Damned habits ingrained by years in the military. That's a joke for my buddies.

"Yes." Her tone is clipped and she pales. "But it's not in the way you think. It's not like what you saw. I don't want to talk about this. He's got Leila now, so I don't have to deal with it at all."

"Sorry, Elizabeth. It was a bad joke." Well I feel like shit now. And I am angry for her. The boss is fucking the housekeeper and she clearly doesn't like it.

She sips her tea and licks her lips. "Not your fault. You couldn't have know."

"Did he buy you off?"

"Of course. Not the same way he did with you, but through my sister. Single mother to a couple children with very high medical needs. He sends her money every month she thinks is coming from me. If I leave my employment, she and the kids are screwed."

"So you know then how he's got me through my daughter?"

She smiles and nods. "He had a rough childhood himself. I wish taking care of children wasn't tied to servitude like this and that he did it to spare other children from unnecessary neglect. But Mr. Grey is in it for himself. I don't think he's capable of caring for anyone but himself."

That's the feeling I get so far too. It's all about him. Everyone else could fall off the planet and as long as his "needs" here met, he'd be happy. How lonely life must be at the top all by your little pathetic self.

I don't know much about this woman. But I like her. I think about asking her out. There's not much to think about. She's free to shoot me down.

"Hey, Beth," I start, using a more intimate form of her name, "what would you say to having dinner with me sometime? At a restaurant, here, my place, your place, wherever you want."

She sighs and smiles, staring down at her cup. "Oh, Jason, first off, I live here, and second-"

"You live here?" That wasn't marked on the floor plans. Why didn't anyone write that one in? I guess "boss's indentured prostitute" was a bit much. I don't even want to punch him anymore. I want to kick his ass seven ways from Sunday.

Elizabeth shrugs. "I accepted the terms of my employment and can leave if I want. But my sister needs the help."

I rub my face hard. I'm up to my ears here.

"And second," she continues, "our time isn't ours. We probably won't have the same night off as long as we both work here. You'll learn your own schedule can change within moments based on his whims."

"Okay, so I'm a lap dog pretending to be a guard dog waiting for his command to follow him around town. I can do that. Think the military game me much more freedom? I could get the order one day to be in Afghanistan the next."

"No." She shakes her head and laughs. "You don't get it. He could call-"

My Blackberry rings. He's the only one with the number. "Speak of the devil." I sigh and answer it. "Yes, Sir?"

"Taylor. How long will it take you to get a bag packed and get back here with your passport?"

I raise my eyebrows at Elizabeth and my jaw drops. "Well, my stuff's being moved, so I don't know about clothes, but my passport's in a box in my car."

"Get your passport and get back up hear. Clothes can be bought on the way. We're heading to Italy this afternoon."

"But-" The phone beeps. He already hung up. "Shit! Pardon my French, Elizabeth."

"I heard. You're taking off."

I stare at her. She doesn't have a single trace of "I told you so" on her face. "Right. I'm supposed to see my daughter day after tomorrow."

"I'm sorry. This is life with Mr. Grey."

"I guess. What can I do about it? At least my daughter's mother can't take her to Korea now."

"Now you know why I put up what I do." She takes her cup to the sink and turns the television off. "You should probably go get your passport. He doesn't like to be kept waiting. Sorry you didn't get to finish your tea."

I stand up and start toward the door. "I'll see you when I get back."

She laughs softly. "We'll try to have dinner at some point then."

I stop in my track and turn around, but her back is to me at the sink. Realization hits me. Nothing in my life is my own anymore. Christian Grey owns my daughter now, and my time with her will be when he decides it can be. The one side of me he can't control I just gave to a woman I didn't know existed until the day before.

I'm not up to my neck. I'm in over my head and am drowning.


	4. Chapter 4

Note from Alys: Ah, my grasshoppers, don't worry, Christian's not getting a bum deal here. Every single thing I'm doing in this story is with a purpose, and it will all fit in with the books. That's the canon we have to go by, and so is what I am using. As for Mrs. Jones's name, re-read chapter two. Her first name is still Gail, but I've given her a middle name that Taylor uses. I know a lot of people can be die-hards about every single thing in a fic staying the same, but if you want nothing new, that's what reading the original source material (debate amongst yourselves) is for. The nice thing about writing *original* fic is no expectation to rewrite someone else's work (again, that's for you to discuss with each other), or to veer off into an alternate version of everything entirely.

So settle down, read on, and you'll see the balance that will start to come in the chapter after this one.

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It wasn't easy getting used to my new life. But I am now, the impromptu trip to Italy just a memory a few months old. Grey is a slave-driver in more ways that one. Leila likes being with her "master," and that's her business. I'm still struggling to accept Grey's end of it. Whatever floats your boat, right? But there's something unsettling about it. It's like more than just wanting to be in charge sometimes. I don't know. Maybe I'm just a prude and not getting it.

Of all the things my Jarhead buddies and I talked about, the tail we snagged, nothing like this came up. Oh my god, I can just see it. Joshua was the freakiest among us, but if he had told us he liked leashing women like dogs with ball gags and parading them in front of unsuspecting strangers, he might find himself on the receiving end of that treatment. Yeah, military life isn't always pretty with pomp and circumstance and initiation into the "club," which isn't condoned by any means, can be harsh. There were a lot of womanizing bastards, but that ended at consenting sex and a lot of talk about it later.

I didn't like it, but didn't want to stick out. After seeing Leila, even though she looks like she enjoys it, I'm feeling like a big shit bag for ever doing anything other than stand up and say it was wrong, even if it would have got my ass kicked. But if I did, would anything have changed?

I'm conflicted sitting in the kitchen of my own apartment with Elizabeth. Here I have a woman who's still a mystery to me, still so unwilling to share so much, and the most precious human that has ever existed, my Sophia. What would I have changed? If I wouldn't have done different, wouldn't that be demeaning to the two in my company? Would I have done them a greater disservice somehow if I had stuck out instead? I don't know.

I don't know what to think about Leila either, probably happily waiting in a crate in Grey's bedroom. At least I think that's where she waits. He doesn't let me see that. I don't care to see much, but I do want to know she's safe.

Mentally I thank the Greys for their family gathering, especially the boss's mother for insisting he give us the day off. In an unexpected turn of events, Marisa agreed when I asked for Sophia. This little unplanned meeting is going well.

"Daddy, more ice cream?" Sophia stared up at me, her big emerald eyes gleaming above a crooked grin.

"How can I say no?" I say with a laugh.

Elizabeth covers her mouth and shakes her head. "I swear, Jase, if ever a man was wrapped around a pinky, it's you." She pulls another flower sticker off the sheet and sticks it on the paper she and Sophia are decorating. I can't tell who's having more fun, the woman or the child.

I pull the ice cream out of the freezer and scoop some into the bowl. Cookies and cream, Sophia's favorite. For good measure, I drizzle on some chocolate syrup and a dollop of whipped cream. Thankfully there's a jar of maraschino cherries in the back of the fridge.

"Here you go, with a cherry on top." I set the bowl at Sophia's elbow and drop the crown jewel on the cream.

She takes up the spoon and scoops up come of the ice cream. "Thanks, Daddy!"

"Anything for you, Liz?"

Elizabeth glances at me. "Liz?" She smiles broadly. "I like that."

Something in her smile warms my heart. In the time I've known her she's aged backward. No longer the stiff, proper housekeeper, at least around me, the light-hearted woman she's become attracts me to her more. Around the boss she's still prim, but she has to be. My stomach turns thinking about other ways she's had to appease him. At least he hasn't treated her like Elena.

Time goes too fast when I have been able to see my daughter, and it flies in the moments I have with Elizabeth. Both of them together speed it up more than double. Just as the clock turns eight, Marisa knocks on the door. She was nothing if not punctual, probably waiting outside until the second her phone told changed to that time.

I open the door. "Hey, want to come in?"

Her eyes narrow at my guest and she crosss her arms. "I can see you have company already."

"Marisa, she's a-"

Sophia rushes past me and hugs her mother's waist. "Hi, Mama! Daddy made sketti for dinner!"

Marisa rubs the little brunette head and otherwise ignores her. The cool indifference to the light of my world cuts me. She doesn't get how fortunate she is to get to see that little jewel every day. I'm lucky to get my weekly dinner evening. But that's Grey's fault.

I kneel down. "I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Daddy." Sophia whispers the words and buries her little face in my neck, her arms nearly breaking my neck. She sniffles, and I know she doesn't want to leave.

"As soon as I have another night off, I'll see you again, Princess." I turn my face and kiss her temple.

"We've got to go." Marisa impatiently taps her toe on the ground.

I close my eyes to keep the daggers in my eyes to myself. I want to prolong the time with my daughter, but can't. Watching my little girl walk away always hurts. The door shutting sends a shockwave of pain through me every time.

A hand touches me and I jump. "Liz. I forgot you were here."

She stares up at me, her expression soft. "I'm sorry about that. Sophia's mother is so cold, but you love her. Things will change at some point."

I try to smile, but can't.

"Listen, Castle is on. Go sit down and I'll get us some wine." She lays her hand on my waist and gently pushes me toward the couch. I'm not in the mood to argue that I should do the dishes first, so follow her command.

Elizabeth turns the water on in the sink and the dishwasher squeaks open.

"Liz, let me take of that later."

She turns and gives me a stern look. "It'll take me just a minute to rinse a few plates."

I smile and shake my heard. That woman. Too good for me. I've got to find a way to thank her for her patience and kindness toward me. Maybe I could win the lottery to take care of her sister and the children so Elizabeth could bail on Grey, so we both could. Mental note: Start buying lottery tickets.

In short time, Elizabeth joins me with two glasses in one hand and a bottle of port in the other. She hands one to me and fills it halfway, then fills her own and reaches over me to set the rest of the bottle on the end table to my side. I didn't even think about my arm across the back of the couch or how that could come across. She doesn't either. I'm delighted more than I want to admit even to myself that she sits down close to me and leans her head back against my arm as she takes a sip from her glass and licks her lips. She smiles slightly and sighs, then finishes her drink in one deep drink.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

She blinks a couple times and turns her eyes to mine. "Just how relaxing this evening has been, what a joy Sophia is, and how much I like letting my hair down sometimes. You?"

I think about wanting to kiss her and more, but don't tell her that. I also don't tell her that I hate this friend zone we're blocked ourselves into, but will happily stay in just to have her around. "I'm thinking about how your hair is still in a bun."

Elizabeth bites her lip to hold in a laugh and reaches to the back of her head. I don't know how women do it, but she only pulled out a couple pins, only a couple holding her thick blond bun in place. Waves tumble down and she shakes her head. The motion released the scent of strawberries and my eyes lose focus.

Oh shit, did she see that? I don't want to be the first one to make any indications I want more. Quickly I sip some of my port and look away for the remote. I grab for it with my free hand. Elizabeth scoots closer until her body is next to mine, and she reaches to take it from me and sets it beside her.

"Forget about TV." She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, laying her head on my shoulder. I think something's bothering her.

"What is it? What's really on your mind?"

Several minutes pass according to the clock on the wall, but she stays quiet. I set my glass onto the end table and drop my hand from the back of the couch to her arm and hug her. I feel her shake her head and sigh again.

"It's not much. I've just seen a couple things that Christian's done in the past when he was getting close to releasing one of his subs. He's doing that with Leila. If he lets her go... Jason, I like you a lot, and that would make it harder to be physically intimate with him again. But I have to." Her words start slurring together. The port's made her a bit tipsy.

My arms tighten around her. "Does he know you feel like this?"

"No, and it wouldn't do any good to tell him. He gets what he wants, and I have to tread carefully."

"Elizabeth, it won't be like this forever. We'll get out of this situation, both of us."

She lays her hand on my cheek and turns my face to hers. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. The situation she's in hurts her, and I can't do jack about it.

Her fingers lead my by my jaw, and our lips touch. She pushes herself up and I'm taken off guard. Her hands yank at my collar. I pull her toward me, feeling the curve of her lower back under my palm. I run my other hand through her hair. She tastes like port and smells like strawberries, an intoxicating blend.

Tastes like port.

Damn.

I turn my face away and her next kiss lands on my cheek. She tries turning my face back, but I refuse. I touch her shoulders and push her back down beside me and hold her against me. "This can't happen, Liz."

She furrows her brow. "Why not?"

"Alcohol. I'm not going to get into it with someone who's had something to drink, especially the first time."

"But I want it, Jason, want someone other than him."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "So just any random joe?"

"That's not what I mean. The someone I want is-"

I press my fingers to her lips. "We're friends, and that's all we can and should be right now. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want something more than that, but we work together, and we've got a bottle of alcohol. So, no."

"But-"

"No, buts, Elizabeth. You're tipsy, so your consent doesn't count right now, and even if it did, we don't need to complicate things. We both need our jobs too much to risk pissing Grey off." I stretch an arm over her for the remote and turn the TV on.

She doesn't say anything else and just leans into me. By the time the show is over, she's fallen asleep. I don't know when the event at the Trevelyan-Grey place will be over, but she should probably be home before then.

"Liz? We've got to get you back." I gently shake her to wake her up, resisting the urge to kiss her head.

She swallows and opens her eyes. She glances around and stops at the clock. "Yeah. Dammit."

"You okay?"

"No, but I'll manage. I'm sorry, Jason."

"For what?"

Elizabeth stands and coils her hair back into a bun. I hand her the pins she left on the couch. "Let's go."

Well shit. I know what she's thinking. She's uncomfortable. "Was it a bad idea bringing you here?"

She laughs. "Oh, god, no. I'm just feeling like a fool. But no more about that. I need to have the boss's nightcap ready when he gets home."

The drive to Grey's place is quiet except for the sound of the wipers clearing the windshield and the raindrops in the roof. Standard Seattle weather. If the weatherman says it's going to be sunny or clear, expect rain. If the forecast is for rain, expect rain. The boss is gloomy enough that I wonder if Grey was added to the end of Trevelyan to mirror the weather here.

"Want me to go up with you?" I ask as I park. I wish I could enjoy the car more, but the conditions of having it weigh me down.

"Sure."

I follow her to the suite, keeping a respectable distance from her in case we come by Grey. Just before opening the front door I drop a quick kiss to the side of her head. "We'll get out of this somehow," I whisper, and push the door open before she can respond.

The apartment is dark. We beat the bastard back. She leads the way to the kitchen and I turn on the TV. I don't recognize the show that's on, but it doesn't matter. If Grey gets home, he won't think anything of me being there where, in his opinion, I belong, ready at all hours of the day and night to do his bidding.

Elizabeth pulls a small silver tray from a cabinet and a fine crystal tumbler from another. She fills it with his favorite cognac, a Remy Martin Black Pearl. I don't know if it's from the time of Louis XIII or just has that in the title, but regardless, he goes through that stuff like it's going out of style. Well, he can afford the steep price. Two bottles of it will run you into the six figures. But it gets him to sleep at night, and that's what matters. I've learned if he drinks it, Elizabeth's nights are easier.

A light flicks on in the living room. I catch it out of the corner of my eye. Elizabeth notices and her back stiffens. I put a finger to my lips and pull out my sidearm. Quietly I step toward the light to see who's there. Slowly I round the corner, gun at the ready.

Grey is sitting in an armchair, one foot bouncing on his knee, a glass swirling clear liquid in the other. A bottle of half-empty Belvedere is waiting on a table, cap on the floor beside it.

"Good evening, Sir. I wasn't sure who was in here. Did you have a pleasant evening?" I return my weapon, safety on, to its holder under my jacker.

"It was, until I came home to an empty apartment and found Leila didn't follow my instructions."

Elizabeth must have heard our boss's voice. She hurries into the living room and sets the tray down next to him. "Are you okay, Mr. Grey? You rarely have vodka unless you're angry."

"Take the cognac away."

Elizabeth glances at him, concerned. "Where is Leila, Sir?"

"Being punished. She's not here tonight, and won't be for a while. I've sent her away for a week. She'll need the time after the thrashing she got."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Don't look at me like that, Taylor. She likes it, and it's not your business."

Everything is my business. He made that clear from the first second I paid eyes on him. I know Leila does like the rough stuff, but this combination of alcohol and talk about beating her isn't sitting well with me. "Yes, Sir," is all I can make myself say.

Elizabeth carries the cognac tray back out of the room, keeping her face down.

Grey watches her and turns back to me. "Go home, Taylor. Be back by seven. Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

I nod and turn around to detour through the kitchen. Elizabeth is standing at the sink, head bowed, her fingers gripping the counter so hard her knuckles are white. I walk toward her and touch her arm. The sharpness in her eyes makes me flinch.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Taylor," she whispers. She never calls me Taylor.

"Something's going to happen tonight, isn't it." It's a statement, not a question. I know she's pulling away to prepare herself.

"Maybe, maybe not."

I swallow back my nausea. "Will it be like...like for Leila?"

She shakes her head and licks her lips. "No. He doesn't take me in there or do any of that with me. A typical teenager probably gets more creative than he does with me." Her soft laugh makes me smile, and I instantly feel like shit for it. We're trapped, she and I.

"Liz," I softly tell her, "if you need me, call."

"Mrs. Jones," she corrects me.

"Yeah." I touch her cheek and her hand covers my fingers. She's shaking slightly.

"Go on," she orders. "It'll be easier for me to go back in there if you're not here, and the sooner I can, the better."

I can't say anything, so just take my hand back and walk past her. A good bye isn't needed. We know it's not going to be good.

Back in my car I turn the stereo up loud and grip the steering wheel so tight I'm surprised it doesn't shatter in my hands.

No wonder the jerk doesn't have any friends. What billionaire doesn't have people at least pretending? Even Charlie-fucking-Sheen, practically a professional abuser who jokes about it, has women hanging on him and men sucking up like they're best bros. Grey doesn't. It's him, all him. His demands aren't reasonable. What the hell will lighten him up? He's miserable, but that's not going to excuse him. The woman I care about is in there with him and at his mercy, and if I even try to step in, we're both screwed. My daughter needs what this job provides, Elizabeth's sister and her nieces need the money, and if we piss off the boss enough... I resent the choices I have. Rock and a hard place, and my daughter comes first. I'm sacrificing a saint of a woman and my soul, and hate myself every moment for it. But I can't change it. Sophia's too important.

In that moment, I understand fully what I have to do what I have to do. My chest tightens as my heart hardens. I have to let go of my feelings for Elizabeth so I can take care of the child who depends on me. I'm resolved now to not care anymore. Christian Grey has broken me.


	5. Chapter 5

That awkward moment when watching internet porn becomes valid research happened. Eep. Please leave reviews, positive or negative. Takes just a minute and you can do it anonymously. Just leave reviews! The faster I get 15, the faster I'll post the next chapter. Bribery? Sure. Otherwise expect the next chapter probably Tuesday. :)

* * *

Infomercial, informercial, oh look! Another infomercial. What? A so-called "better marriage blanket" that uses military fabric used as a weapon against chemical warfare? I hate late-night TV. The damn entertainment center is conspiring against me, I just know it. There's no other explanation for where my XBox remote went. Without it, I can't watch Netflix or shoot up some enemy fighters and pretend they're my boss. After the whirlwind of the last eight hours I kind of need a mental break.

Was it really just eight hours ago Elizabeth and I were having dinner with Sophia? And now Sophia's in bed and Elizabeth is...I don't want to think about it. I kissed the woman, or she killed me, and now she's probably with someone else. Maybe a run will clear my head.

Somewhere in my clean laundry basket I've got a fresh running outfit, and I did around for it. Of course it's at the bottom, and I'm not in the mood to refold stuff. I'll deal with wrinkles tomorrow. Pair of briefs, pair of socks, my running shoes, and I'm good to go. Oh, I should grab my wallet just in case the cops want to stop the crazy guy running around Seattle after midnight. My phone and keys join it in my pocket.

As soon as I'm outside and my soles hit the sidewalk my phone starts playing the Imperial March. It's Elizabeth's ringtone, and I hoped I wouldn't hear from her. Something's wrong. I press the on button.

"Liz?"

"Jason, please get over here." Her words are rushed and I hear screaming in the background.

My heart sinks. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

"Yes, I'm- Please, just come, as quick as you can. I've got to go."

The line goes silent. I waste no time running to the car. Somehow I manage to not get pulled over. Two in the morning, when the bars close, isn't the best time to speed at a hundred miles an hour up I5. I don't think I've ever parked as poorly as I do when I get there. If they want to tow it, I don't care. It's company property, and I'm there to save the boss or his housekeeper, I don't know which.

The elevator takes forever. Well, not really, but when you need to get somewhere, time goes off and slows down. I hum the Jeopardy theme song waiting for it to arrive, and then for the doors to close behind me. Come on, hurry. I press the button to the top floor repeatedly, convincing myself it was causing the box holding me to lift faster. Finally the doors slide open and I can unlock the door.

Fragments of lamps and small piece of furniture are strewn about on the floor, and some larger pieces are upended. Grey is standing beside the grand piano trying to turn it over. He heaved and his grip slips. He falls to his ass and screams incoherent words.

I run to him and lock him into a full nelson. He's pinned and pissed. I can't understand what he's saying, but it sounds like "flibbity jibbet" with a "cock-sucking mother fucker" tossed in. He struggled weakly, then gives in. Alcohol stench emanates from his body.

"Jason?" Elizabeth peeks around a corner.

I glance up and try to smile. "It's all right. Just make a pot of strong coffee. I've got to get him cleaned up."

Elizabeth nods wordlessly and disappears.

Careful to support him, I haul Grey to his feet and guide him to his bathroom. It's not in my job description, but I yank his clothes on and shove him into the shower anyway. He pukes into the drain. I thank the gods I don't believe in that it's liquid and not something solid I'd have to clean up.

He pulls a washcloth off a small shelf and runs it over his own skin. I avert my eyes and semi supervise. He'd better not fall. This is already more than I'm comfortable with. At least it's not as bad as when I first met the guy. The cloth plops to the floor with a loud smack and I shut the water off.

"Where are the towels?" I ask.

Grey points in a general direction, and I guess he means under the sink. I'm right and grab a couple to hand him. He's already seeming better and more stable and dries off. On his own, he walks to his bedroom and rifles through a drawer until he finds pajamas. I take my leave and head the direction of a vacuum.

Elizabeth the appliance over the cleaned floor. A pile of broken furniture pieces is waiting in the corner to be bagged, and the couch is still upside down, but she's set the rest right. I correct the couch and step over to her.

"Liz?" I rub my hands over her bare arms. Her bright pink tank top make her look so pale. Maybe it's just fear. She's shaking still. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He just scared me. I don't know what happened. After you left, he just wanted to sit quietly and read by himself. So I went to my room to catch up a bit on a book I'm reading. Then he just started to go crazy and I heard things crashing around out here."

"But you're okay?"

She nods and turns away to finish vacuuming. I find a garbage back in the kitchen and help finish the cleaning until Grey stumbled out into the living room in a grey sweat suit, still unsteady on his feet.

Anger surges up at him. I am rough on purpose when I grab his arm and drag him to the couch, and still rough when I shove him down to sit on it. "What the hell is going on, Mr. Grey?" Elizabeth stands beside me. "Liz, please get some coffee."

"Sure." She heads to the kitchen.

"Liz? Isn't her name Gail?" He's not slurring as much as I though he would.

I cross my arms and glare down at him. "Gail Elizabeth Jones. Now I demand to know what the hell is going on." Adrenaline is still coursing through me and I'm to reckless and pissed to care that this could cost me my job. A call in the middle of the night because the bastard's drunk and violent shouldn't happen.

He leans back and stares up with me, his eyes narrowing and widening in what I think is an attempt to focus on me. "Your guess is good as mine, Taylor."

Elizabeth returns with a tray set with a few coffee cups, a steaming pot, and a couple little bowls of cream and sugar. Grey and I watch her fix his cup and hand it to him. He sips and nods is approval.

"Jason, um, Mr. Taylor, what would you like?"

I take the second cup from her. "I've got it." I drop in a couple sugar cubes and sit on an ottoman. She finishes creaming her coffee and lowers herself into an armchair.

For a few minutes we sip and stare around at each other. I'm still fighting the urge to punch some sense into Grey. He runs a hand through his hair, darkened to nearly brown with the remaining dampness of his shower, and I want to break his fingers. What if he'd hurt Elizabeth in his tirade over nothing?

Jesus, it just hit me. Am I supposed to be protecting him from himself? He hates me carrying a gun, no matter how much I tell him it makes no sense to expect me to protect him from people who wouldn't think twice about using them. What if it's not others he's worried about, but his own temper? Christ almighty, I think I'm a well-paid babysitter for a twenty-five-year-old child who happens to have more money than any one person should be allowed to have at his disposal.

I scratch the back of my head. "Come on, Boss, you have to talk. What the hell caused this? What's going on?"

Grey closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, I'm surprised by what I see. His mouth tightens and he's got tears in his eyes. He looks over at Elizabeth and narrows his eyes. "You don't know."

"Of course I don't, Mr. Grey. You don't tell us anything. Please answer Mr. Taylor and let us know what brought all of this on."

Grey rubs his face with his free and runs his fingers through his hair.

"You're outnumbered two to one, Sir," Elizabeth says softly.

He scowls at her, then leans forward. "If either of you laugh, you're both fired."

Elizabeth flicks get eyes in my direction. "Neither of us are in a laughing mood."

Grey turns his glower to me. "Taylor?"

"There's nothing funny about any of this."

Our agreement seems to satisfy him. He finished his coffee in two gulps and sets the cup aside.

"Well," he started, "it's from when I was a kid. My, uh, my birth mother was a crack whore, and when I was a toddler, I didn't always get to eat." He stops speaking and hangs his head.

"Go on," Elizabeth gently prompts.

"And, um, I don't know. She burned me and didn't care. She ended up dying, and I was stuck with her a few days by myself, hungry and scared to death. One of the doctors I saw after that adopted me. I had a bit to drink tonight, and got angry."

I sigh. "You thought we'd laugh at this?" I can't laugh or even feel schadenfreude. No kid deserves to go through that, no matter how shitty they are as adults.

"That explains the obsession with forcing mealtimes on us," Elizabeth muses. "Mr. Grey, have you had enough to eat tonight?"

"Yeah." He avoids our eyes and stared up at the ceiling. A single tear falls down his cheek and he slaps his own face to knock it away. Some sort of self-punishment for showing vulnerability?

I stare at my coffee, trying to decide what I should do or say. He saves me from having to decide.

"I'm going to bed. Mrs. Jones, I'm sorry I destroyed things. Taylor, stay here tonight in the guest room in case I..." He shakes his head, still not looking at us, and turns toward his room. We listen until we hear is door clicking shut.

Elizabeth rests her forehead in one of her hands. "I had no idea he was a neglected child and was alone with a dead person."

"Me neither, but it doesn't excuse his behavior." I get up to go sit by her and drape an arm across the couch back behind her.

"No, it doesn't." She lifts her face to me. "I've known him a few years now and have never seen him look so...so..." Her brow knits together.

"Human?" I offer.

I'm glad to hear her chuckle. "Oh, Jason, thank you for coming tonight."

"It's my job. But even if it wasn't, I care about you, Liz, and you needed help."

She suddenly grins broadly. "Let's distract ourselves from this. Come on." Quickly she stands and pulls my hand and leads me down the hall. This unexpected shift in behavior, from mellow and fearful to energetic and happy, throws me for a loop. I'm not sure what she's planning.

Elizabeth pulls me through a door and closes it. I quickly glance around the cream and sage colored and am surprised that her space is in a bit of a disarray with clothes tossed on the back of a plush arm chair and some shoes kicked in a corner. Not as messy as my own room, but not immaculate. She must notice me taking this in.

"Last thing I feel like doing when I get to my own room, my own little home, is the cleaning I do for a living out there."

"Makes sense to me. But what are we-" I'm cut off from finishing what I'm asking with a fierce kiss. I have an idea what we're doing, and I have a momentary thrill knowing the boss didn't.

She pushes me against a wall and begins tugging at my running shirt. Our mouths part just long enough for me to take over and pull it off. She yanks her tank top over her own head and pushes back up against me. She shakes herself, and I left my hand run down her back to her grab her bare ass. She kicks her pajama bottoms away. How unfair. I'm still half-dressed. I guess she realizes this too since she sticks her thumbs in my waistband and forces my pants down.

I circle my arms around her and lift her and carry her to the bed. She scratches her fingernails over my back. I shiver and start to trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, to her collar bone. Her breasts fill my hands and I kiss each plump nipple, then continue down. Down her stomach, down her abdomen. She spreads her legs apart for me. I use my thumbs to spread her apart and flick my tongue rapidly over the nub of her arousal. She gasps. I slide a couple fingers into her moistness and crook them upward, massaging as I withdraw them and go back for more. She tightens and holds on, whimpering, and runs her hands through my short hair, trying to grab on, unable to.

Elizabeth pushes me away and onto my back. She wastes no time grabbing my cock and taking it into mouth. Holy shit the woman's skilled. She manages to take almost all of my length in and tightens her lips as she pulls away. Her tongue lingers at my tip, then swirls around right before she sucks me back into her mouth. My ass tightens and I have to tell myself to think of the queen of England to keep myself from letting go. Queen of England and my grandpa? Fuck it, I can't focus enough to think of anything. Right before I lose control she crawls up over me and her mouth crushes against mine.

She straddles over me as our tongues fight against each other. Carefully she presses her heat against the underside of my shaft, not letting me in, but teasing at the gate. I moan desperately and she chuckles. "Do you like that?" she whispers on my ear.

I grab her hips and reply, "Oh god, woman, you're a vixen." I momentarily lose the ability to focus or think about anything at all when she nips my earlobe and lightly bites my neck.

Elizabeth sits up and stared down at me, her eyes dark. She licks her lips and presses my hands tighter against her hips. Rising to let me stand at attention, she poises herself. I lift my ass from the bed, trying to reach, but she moved up slightly and gives me an impish grin.

"Please," I groan.

She keeps her eyes locked on mine and sinks down onto me. I resist the urge to let go when she tosses her head back and her mouth drops open. With every inch of me buried on her she rocks back and forth, her soothing heat calling to something in me. I don't know what and I don't care. Elizabeth leans forward and retrains her eyes on mine. I fight to keep mine open and staring into hers. I don't understand the power she has over me.

Her breathing hitches with each of my hard, upward thrusts into the molten depths of her body. Each time we part, she tightens, milking every physical desire I have. One of my hands moves from her hip to her lower back, my other reaching for her face. She presses her cheek into my palm. I don't know how much longer I can hold on for her.

Faster we move together, hungrier, needier. My abdomen and upper thigh muscles tense, my breaths coming in short gasps. Her breathing seems to have stopped altogether. She closes her eyes and drops her lips to mine, and I feel her clench around me like a vice, rhythmically contracting. Holding her against me, I roll us over until I'm on top of her, propped on my elbows, still tasting her mouth. I let go, and the burning heat shoots from deep within me and I thrust roughly into her, filling her. Her fingernails claws into my lower back, not letting me move.

For a minute I can't move. She runs her hands up my back and hugs me to her. Her breathing near my ear makes me smile. I don't want to pull out, but have to, and lay beside her. My eyes close and I swallow. I feel her press herself against my side and lay a leg over mine. Her arm around my waist claims me. I'm hers, and agree with a kiss to her forehead.

"I don't want to leave," I sigh.

"I know. I don't want you to either." She kisses under my jaw. "But at least you'll just be a couple doors away, and here for breakfast."

"I'd like to have you for breakfast."

"Feeling's mutual."

Lazily I pull away and sit up. "Is there a shower I can use?"

Elizabeth clasps her hands under my head, and I'm tempted to have her again. She grins and winks, knowing what she's doing. "The guest room has a bathroom. Towels are under the sink, and shampoo and everything else is in the cabinet across from the toilet."

While I still have some control of my head, I stand up and pick up my top and pants and pull them on. My socks I shove in my sneakers and carry those. I lean over her and taste her lips one more time. "I'll see you in the morning, Liz."

She smiles as her reply and closes her eyes.

I hate walking away. I pause at the door and glance back at her, still stretched out. I guess we busted out of the friend zone.

Quietly I open the door and tiptoe down the hall. Everything's dark. I feel my way to the second door to the left and push it open and find the light switch. Safe in the confines if the guess room, I exhale loudly and head to the shower to sort through my thoughts of the events of the last twelve hours.


	6. Chapter 6

I've had a request for a heads-up on certain types of scenes to be posted before chapters. Since a heads up can take away the element of surprise, I won't post a spoiler alert before the chapters, but what I will do is use the last-posted chapter to give this warning on any chapters so that you can see if you want, or not.

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I stalk the halls of Grey's holdings company. Everyone else was home or off doing whatever else they want to do for New Year's Eve. Leave it to Grey to suck the fun out of holidays with work. I need a vacation from all this, but what can I do? It's monotonous and dull, but mentally draining, to be mentally turned on every hours of the day, waiting for him to need me to do something. I rarely do, and so just shadow him. Watching his life, like the more boring episode of a reality show. I'd welcome stepping into one of those shows on MTV but for something to happen.

I escape into books. The boss doesn't care if I spend my shifts reading, so I open the cover on my iPad and open to The Green Mile. No matter how many times I read this one, it kills me a little. Why didn't the movie version of this include the passage about the tied sausages? I've read this book a few times. Not going to finish it again.

My life isn't being lived. I want something I can live vicariously through. Nothing else is catching my eye. I sigh. Six months of being Grey's bodyguard and occasional lover to Elizabeth has gotten to me. It's all stagnant. Nothings going anywhere. Parallel tracks into the horizon that's always looking further away.

Bodyguard? My god, I'm more like his lackey, a manservant. I'm not there overnight unless he's been drinking. If someone's going to kill him, it would probably be when he sleeps instead of when he's awake and can hear someone approach. We don't see eye to eye on guns. If someone does try killing him during the day, there'll probably be a gun. How an I supposed to stop a bullet? I won't jump in front of one for him. He's not worth it.

I pull myself out of my thoughts and flip through the iBookstore. Everything with this company is little-I-this and little-I-that. I can't believe someone's charging almost six bucks for open-source classic books, and a bunch of idiots have paid it. Jesus Christ, no wonder some people are so broke all the time. I laugh. People using this devices probably don't care or don't worry about money very much. Hell, I think I'm becoming an elitist, and the smile falls from my face.

If I don't get a vacation soon, I'll snap.

"Taylor!" the boss calls, heels of his shoes clicking on the floor. I don't know how men's heels can click, but his do.

I stand quickly and close the case on my iPad. "Sir."

He stops in front of me. "I'm going to stay with a friend the next couple weeks. You're not going with me. So take the time off."

For a moment I think there's a god. A break. Holy shit I can take a shower without wondering if he'll call me at midnight and take a piss without the phone on the counter next to me. I'm going to turn that electric leash off and -

Damn. I can't. It's the number Marisa uses. Well, Grey never told me I had to give up my old cell phone. I didn't want to carry a couple around.

I collect myself. "Who is it?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"If I'm in charge of your safety, then I need to know. If you don't return, I need to know where to start searching for you." I don't care if he comes back, not much. I only care about the pay. But I'm very curious where he's going on such short notice that he's not taking me.

Grey's grey eyes glance down, then away. "Elena. We have some business to discuss."

Sure. Right. I believe that as much as I believe in the Easter bunny. I don't know if he's fucking around with her, but I do know that he would need to go away a couple weeks with a local woman to discuss business. She's got a couple salons. They're local. But she's his mom's good friend. I guess they don't want Grace to know they'll be meeting up.

Yeah. They're knocking boots.

"Where?"

He raises an eyebrow again. "The ass?"

I can't believe he said that. For half a second I freeze. Then I snort and shake my head.

Grey chuckles. Oh my god, he can laugh. I've never heard that. "I know what you're thinking, and it's none of your business." His chastising is hard to take seriously when he's blushing himself. "No, really, we're going to Vegas to check out some shows for some ideas she has for one of the salons downtown, and maybe to buy out a two-location chain down there."

I'm convinced they're going to be naked as often as possible. Elena's pretty hot, but I block the boss out of my head. Okay, I push Elena from my head too. I care about Elizabeth too much. She's the one I want to think about, soft lips and legs that don't quit. They way she laughs makes me giddy like a schoolboy experiencing a first crush...

"Hello in there. Taylor?" Grey snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"Hmm?" I refocus on the boss. "Sorry, I was just thinking about, um, stuff."

"Whatever it is, think about it on your own time. Mrs. Jones is getting my bags packed and we've got to pick up Elena by eight to make it to the airport in time for our flight." He turned in the direction of the elevator.

I follow him and reach it first. I hit the button and the doors open immediately. "So that'll get you in Vegas before midnight?"

"Should be over Vegas at midnight. I want to see the fireworks from the sky."

Or make fireworks in the sky. I know there's no reason to be gone for a couple weeks over a matter like this, and his sharp look tells me he knows I know. It's like he's daring me to challenge him. I raise my eyebrows. The doors open again, disrupting our game of chicken. I walk out first and let him win. He's the boss, after all, and I don't need him leaving mad and coming back deciding to replace me.

Traffic's slow on the way back to the Escala. He spends it on the phone. I listen to some NPR. He's not a fan, so I keep it low. I finally reach the building and hurry up to his penthouse to grab his bags. Elizabeth has them by the door, but is not in the kitchen or any common area. I head to her room, and can hear her shower. I guess I'll see her in the morning.

Grey's kind of nervous in the car. He's not on the phone anymore and stares blankly out the window, a hand over his mouth.

"You okay, Boss?"

He jumps slightly and smiles. "Yes."

He may as well have grown a third head. Where's my composed, cold boss? Who is this jumpy, smiling kid who even tried cracking a joke earlier? Is this because he'll be seeing Elena? No, can't be. She's been over to the apartment before.

But they haven't been away together. Could he be - no. He can't be with her like he is with Leila. He's always so in control when he's playing his games. I don't think he'd be like he is with Elizabeth. Okay, I can't think about that.

Is he in love?

No, that can't be. I don't think the guy can love anyone but himself. It's always all about him, and you can't do that when you love. But these short breaks from being an ass, when he lets a different side break through for a minute, make me wonder sometimes. They never last though, and I think they're a way of manipulating people. The entire drive I try to piece it together, but decide he toying with everyone around me.

Outside Elena's place I park and open the back door. She's waiting outside with her bag at her feet.

"Out," she snaps at Grey. Oh shit. He's not going to like that.

He gets out, and my jaw fell so fast the muscle may as well had disappeared for a moment. Grey clasps his hands behind his back and casts his eyes down. What the fuck? He waits until she slides into the car and gets in behind her. I close the door, toss her bag in the trunk, get behind the wheel, and I think I'm in the Twilight Zone. Aliens invade his brain? Body-double? Those make more sense than the asshole I know being meek and mellow and whipped.

Whipped? Christian Grey? I have to bite my lips together to keep from laughing out loud. Not a chance. He'd grow wings and find a gold halo to hang over his head before that happens. All the way to the airport he stays silent and nibbles on his bottom lip. I can't tell if he's nervous or excited or both or something else. I want him out of the car and away from he right now. This change isn't comfortable for me. His usual self makes more sense. I'm also used to it.

I pull the car up to the curb at the Seattle airport and open the back door. He waits until she orders him out. He obeys and stands aside like he did when she got in the car. She gets out and pulls on a pair of black leather gloves. My existence even acknowledged, but I'm okay with his and I get their luggage out and set it on a cart. One of the handlers takes over.

"Have a safe trip, Mr. Grey and Ms. Lincoln," I tell them. Not getting a response isn's a surprise, even though he usually says something to me. As quick as I can without running, I get back in the car and take off.

What the hell just happened? The boss was acting like a school boy with his first crush! Was that really Mr. Grey acting whipped?

Wait. I've got to back up my though. Could he be? Is there...no. There can't be. Grey? A submissive? Not a snowball's chance in hell. There's no figuring it out, so I turn on the radio to here cheering from New York. Oh, that magic time of year when my parents are in a different year out in Connecticut. I'd call, but my old man still won't talk to me.

I pull into my usual parking space and take the stairs up instead of the elevator. A bit of exercise and a shower sounds good. But drivers are already being reckless and I don't want to be a fleshy human body on a sidewalk running around if one of them drives up a curb. So the stairs will be it for tonight.

I barely go through the door and already I'm pulling everything off. I need the steam of a shower so bad I want to shout at a wall or something. Usually New Year has just been another night, but this year I'm overwhelmed. For the first time in my adult life, I'm about to start my new year as a civilian, and I won't be working. A bad time to take a vacation. At least it's paid time.

The heat of the water turns me beet-red and scalds a bit, but feels good. It stops me from thinking about too many things at once. My life isn't feeling like my own. I miss the early morning drills and heading out in the evenings for a few too many beers with my old buddies. There hasn't been time for that since I started working for Grey. It's been months since I've heard from any of them.

Sophie's loving school, though Marisa doesn't care to be a mom. If Grey didn't insist own owning every minute of my life, I'd ask for custody. Sophie really likes Elizabeth.

I really like Elizabeth too. I have to calm myself around her. She still sees herself as the boss's property. I wish she didn't see herself as owning anyone she doesn't want to belong to. I'm scared to death to tell her how I feel about her. I'm scared to admit it to myself. She's smart and funny, can hold her own at cards, and constantly surprises me with her sense of humor. Unlike other women I've been interested in, she's not self-deprecating nor conceited about how beautiful she is. Elizabeth is a better influence on Sophie than Marisa.

As I turn off the water, I hear a knock on the door. Shit, who would be knocking tonight of all nights unless something is wrong. I pull some sweats on over my still-wet legs just to get something on and toss a towel around my shoulders and hurry to the door. I don't pay attention and open it right onto my face.

"Shit" I say and start rubbing my forehead.

"Jason, are you all right?"

I wrinkle my nose against the lingering sting and look past my fingers are Elizabeth, striking even in jeans and a black turtleneck. I like her hair on a ponytail. Casual is a great look for her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sorry about my language."

She brushes past me with a dish in her hands. "Well, if 'shit' is on the no-no list, I should probably throw the Dogma DVD I brought out the window right now. You know about George Carlin's brilliant use of language far more colorful than that, right?"

"You're amazing." I follow her into the kitchen and touch her lower back while watching over her shoulder as she pulls a glass lid off the casserole dish.

"Lasagna. I didn't think you'd have time to eat tonight, not with staying late at the office and then chauffeuring Mr. Grey and Elena around." She turns her face back to me and plants a quick kiss in my lips. "So I brought dinner to you. I hope you don't mind."

I reach to the counter and turn on my iPod in its Bose dock. Tom Petty's Wildflowers. Not the most romantic, but it'll do. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her away from the counter. She spins in them and loops her arms around my neck and stares up up at me, a small smile on her face.

"Two weeks," she whispers so soft I can't actually hear words.

"Yeah. Do you want to stay here?" My words surprise me. We haven't stayed a night in the same bed, yet I'm practically asking her to move in for a while. But I'd like it.

Elizabeth opens her eyes a little wider and her mouth opens to a silent O and closes. She swallows. "Well, if, you mean it, I'd love to stay with you. I just don't want to overstay my welcome here."

"Your absence is what's overstayed its welcome." I lean my forehead against hers and sway with her until the song ends. My stomach betrays me with a grumble.

"Let me get you a plate," she says, rubbing her nose against mine. "Get us some drinks."

"I've got some beer and soda. No wine tonight." Why didn't I get some wine on the way home? I make a mental note to keep wine in this place.

"Beer's fine." She grabs a knife from a drawer and begins cutting into the still-warm lasagna and plating it. I think she knows her way around my kitchen better than I do.

I grab a couple bottled from the fridge and pop them open, and we walk together to the living room.

"I forgot to give you a present I got for Sophie. I hope it's okay that I got her something." Elizabeth smiles shyly.

"Of course. She adores you, Liz." More than I can tell her. Sophia loves her. I think I do too. I shake my head slightly and set the beers on the table and sit down. Liz hands me a plate and places the other beside the bottles. I take a bite while she starts the movie. "Holy christ this is good."

Elizabeth curls up beside me and presses a button on the remote. "You're not used to my cooking yet?"

The wide-eyed look she gives me makes me smile. "Well, I am, but, um..."

"Oh, Jason. We've got two weeks to change that."

I'm surprised how relaxing watching George Carlin introducing Buddy Jesus while I eat and have a beer can be, how domestic and right when it's with the woman beside me. We both finish our food, and without needing words, adjust our positions so she's curled up next to me, resting in my arms, in a movement so natural I didn't realize we moved.

Then I know. I love her. Realizing it hits me like a train and takes my breath away. A couple of them are hard to take.

"Are you all right, Jase?" She glances up at me.

"I'm fine," I tell her with a kiss to her lips. The soft smile she gives me before she turns back to the TV makes me panic. Shit, no. No no no, I can't be feeling like this. Not now, not her. It's like that movie, what's it called? Ewan McGreggor's in in. Moulin Rouge. How can I share someone I love? It's not my decision to make, and maybe she doesn't even feel the same way. I don't know if it would be worse to be loved and share her or to not have her love at all. There's no way I can tell her. We already complicated things more than we should have. I don't think either of us have plans to step back. I don't. But I also don't plan to move things forward. We both need our jobs too much.

Elizabeth checks her watch and grabs the remote. "It's almost midnight." She's got that remote figured out better than I do, so she takes care of it. She gets back to regular cable and finds the replay of the ball drop. A local news channel is covering local celebrations with a smaller screen of the New York ball.

"What do you hope happens in the new year?" She shifts against me and straddles my lap.

I encircle my arms around her waist and stare into her eyes. "I don't know, Liz. To win the lottery, I guess. Maybe find a new way to get what we need. A way to keep Sophie in a good school without Grey. A way to take care of your sister and the kids without him. For you to not have to be with him at all. You?"

She licks her lips and smiles broadly. "I don't think I'll have to be anymore. The woman he went to Vegas with is an old dom of his. She's back in the picture. Between me and her, he'll go to her."

"Grey has a dom?" Wow. I didn't think he could ever be submissive to anyone. My speculation was right. Holy shit. And she may not have to service his needs anymore? I think a weight has been lifted. She never liked being with him.

"Yes. I'm free from him in that way. I can be all yours now."

Mine? I like the sound of that. I'm already hers. I take a deep breath and decide to tell her that before I lose my guts. Just say the words quick. Tell her I'm hers. "Liz, I love you."

These words escape before I have a chance to stop myself. I close my eyes and tense up. God dammit. If I just blew it with her, I'm not going to get over it for a long time. It takes all my will power to open my eyes. I expect to see her looking uncomfortable. But she's smiling softly at me.

She lightly rubs her thumbs over my cheekbones and her fingers slide down my jaw. She brushes my hair back, and suddenly leans against me, nuzzling her face into my neck. But she doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry, Liz."

"Don't be," she says, her voice low. "You just caught me off guard. I don't know what to say. I mean, I care about you a lot, but I'm not sure how just yet."

Great. She probably wants to run off. How could I have been so stupid? "If you don't want to stay here, I'll understand." I tighten my arms and realize the mixed message I'm sending. She's free to leave, but held tightly. I make myself loosen my arms.

She sits up and stares into my eyes, still smiling. "No, I don't want to go. I want to stay here, if you'll be okay with that."

The announcer on tv says we've got three minutes to midnight. Would it be okay to kiss her when that time hits?

Our eyes stay locked. She takes a bunch of deep breaths and licks her lips. Every now and then her eyes narrow and then widen, like she's thinking hard about something. Her smile doesn't completely fade. I want to ask her what she's thinking, but don't. The ball's in her court, and whatever she wants to do with it is hers to decide. No matter what she does with it, I'm still hers, and I can't take back what I said. Truth is, I feel better getting it out there. I think she does too.

She sighs and her smile widens as she does until her eyes light up like Christmas lights. Her hand on my cheek is warm and comforting. I reach one of mine up to cup hers. Elizabeth rests her face against my palm and nods. "Yes," she says.

"Yes what?" I don't know what she's agreeing to. I didn't ask her anything, did I?

In the background, the countdown to midnight starts. Five, four, three, two, one... People cheer. Outside the window I hear hooting and hollering and a couple air horns and firecrackers. I don't think she even notices, and after a second, I don't either. I'm here with the woman I've admitted to loving, and she's still with me. I'm hers, she's mine. Her mouth nears mine, her breathing shallowing. Right before out lips meet, she whispers. "I love you too, Jason Taylor."


	7. Chapter 7

Short chapter this time. I'll start posting at the rate of once a week starting next Sunday. I was churning out chapters every couple days, but I do have original manuscripts I'm working on. Click the favorite and/or follow buttons and you should get notifications of updates. I'm not sure which, so click both, and comment. I love comments, whether you like this fic or have something critical or corrective to say. :)

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Bacon is sizzling. I hope she likes the hickory thick-cut stuff. It's the best for gravy. I've got some biscuits baking in the oven. My grandma's recipe is amazing, but I always over mix it all so they end up a bit heavy. Some fresh cut-up fruit is in another bowl. I realize I don't know if she's much of a fan of breakfast, so I think I have both the main bases covered. Healthier stuff, or meat. Maybe I should make some scrambled eggs. Yes, I should.

So I heat a dry, stainless steel skilled and crack eight eggs in a bowl and whisk them with a couple shakes of garlic salt and lemon pepper. Everyone thinks I'm out of my mind when I mention that one, until they try it. The pan's hot now, so I turn it down to medium and drizzle in half a teaspoon or so of oil, swirl it around, and dump the bowl into it. Immediately I top with a couple handfuls of fresh spinach and a couple ounces of shredded cheddar and stir it up. Then I toss the lid on, stir every minute or so, and take it off the heat. This is my favorite way to have my eggs.

Now that the eggs are set aside, I can't hyper-focus on mundane details to distract myself. In my bed the woman I admitted to loving is sleeping. It could have been a worse night. She could have fun out screaming. It could have gone better and I kept my feelings to myself. But no. I lubricated myself with just enough wine to not think before I spoke. Now she knows.

Twice before I've said those words to a woman. One was my high school sweetheart. She went to the UK for a university program and I went into the military. Student loans weren't easy to get back in the days when people could still file bankruptcy on them. My parents had a lot of debt from my older brother's legal expenses. What an ass. They should have let his drink-driving ass rot in jail instead of destroy themselves financially for a while getting him off the hook. They didn't have the cash in the bank. I didn't either. So military for me, Cambridge for Heather. She fell in love with someone else over there and stayed there.

A few years later there was Marissa. Oh, I thought she was wonderful. She was okay with my deployments. I thought I was going to marry her. Her birth control failed and she blamed me. But she realized I was a reliable source of a monthly check, and she cut me off from updates. I only found out Sophie was born when I was served with child support papers a couple weeks later. I thought she loves me, and was hurt beyond words when she turned on me. I thought nothing could be worse until I realized she didn't care about Sophie. Still doesn't.

Six years later and here I am. Damn, I'm scared. Toss me over in Afghanistan and I'd have less fear. I know what to expect there, and that's to die any minute. My only fear there was not coming back for my daughter, but my life insurance would take care of her through college.

For a second I think I'm being stupid. How can I be more scared now than of dying and leaving her? Oh, that's right, because my boss bribed a judge or something to keep my daughter here. I'm sure he could get someone to sign that Marisa can take Sophie to South Korea still, and she'd still lose me. My little girl is safer off in America with my life insurance than in South Korea and a mother who doesn't care and whatever child support I'd be told to pay.

I'm playing with fire. I'm in love with a woman the boss has been screwing. Elizabeth said she thinks it's over, but what if it's not? We both hope it is, but who knows with that guy.

Somehow I'm not inclined to have her leave or to cut things off yet. So I grab a breakfast tray and load up a plate with a bit of everything, and a cup of coffee with a couple spoons of sugar and a little milk, just how I know she likes it. I don't have any vases or anything, so can't give her a flower or anything.

Quietly I walk back into my bedroom and set the tray on the table next to her. I open the blinds, letting the morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains. The softened light makes her look like an angel, a peaceful angel with nothing in the world to bother her. Her golden hair is disheveled on the pillow under her cheek, but her face is relaxes, and she has a small smile. I wonder what she's dreaming about.

Carefully I lay on the bed behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. I never realized a night with a woman could be as fulfilling as last night. I still can't believe sex wasn't involved, and yet I feel... I can't even think of the words. Terrified, for sure, but happy, content...something more than that. Too bad there's no handbook on this stuff.

I kiss the back of her neck through her hair and hear her sigh. She lays a hand on the back of mine. Cool and smooth, her fingernails lightly scratch my skin. It sends a pleasant tingle up my arm.

"Good morning, Jason." Her voice sounds like music in the morning.

"Morning, Liz." I prop myself up slightly with my free arm. Her eyes are still closed, though she's trying to contain a grin that shows her dimples.

She turns her head back and opens her eyes. She stared right into mine. I like the sparkle in them. It's almost mischievous.

In one swift motion, she kicks the covers down, spins around, pins my arms above my head, and straddles me.

"Holy shit, where did that come from?" There was no hiding my surprise.

Elizabeth leans down and kisses me. I smell spearmint. She'd already been up. I don't care when. I don't care about much as her tongue runs along my upper teeth. I care even less when she starts gyrating her hips over my erection.

Suddenly she breaks the kiss and pushes up. "Let's go somewhere."

"What?" Oh god, the woman's unpredictable. A minute ago I thought she was sleeping. When we're alone, things apparently can't be dull. I like this.

"We have two whole weeks. Let's go out of town." Elizabeth releases me and starts finger-brushing some tangles, but continues sitting on me. She gives me a wicked half smile. Ah, she knows what she's doing. Two can play at this game.

"I'm in the mood to eat...something." I drop my voice to a whisper on the last word.

Her eyes widen slightly. "Oh really?" She licks her lips. "Like what?"

I try to keep my face straight and point to the tray. "Eggs and bacon."

She glances over and then rolls her eyes. "Oh, Jason!" she sighs with a laugh. She moves off of me and grabs a piece of bacon, breaking it in half. One half she pops in her own mouth and the other in mine. I quickly chew and swallow.

The back of my fingers brush her cheek. "Where do you want to go?"

"If you're up for a drive, Astoria."

I don't mind a drive. Not with her. "I'm up for it. I guess that means we need to stop by Grey's-"

"Stop! No. I don't want to go there today." Her words are sharp and the playfulness gone. "I've got my purse and wallet with some credit cards. One bills to him. I'll pick up anything I need. Let's not spoil what's going on between us by going back there, all right?"

I had been wondering when we would mention what we'd said the night before. I'm annoyed that we're getting to it by talking about our boss. I don't want to talk about him either, and decide to get off that topic. "Astoria it is. You're welcome to keep wearing my shirts if it'll get me out of holding your purse while you're in a fitting room."

"I'll spare you. Let's eat and head on out. I'll wear what I had on last night, make a hotel reservation on the way, and do shop shopping on my phone. I'll pick something up at a gift shop for tomorrow, and have whatever I order overnighted. So I'll have new stuff in a couple days."

Finally I sit upright. "How long have you been planning this?"

"About two minutes. Eggs?"

Two minutes. Yes, my wonderful Elizabeth is definitely spontaneous, and I can't wait to see what else happens before the boss gets back.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for bearing with me while I recovered from surgery. It ended up being tougher than I expected and I've ended up in the ER twice with complications, most recently just last Monday.

Please enter my novel giveaway and help spread the link!  giveaway/show/52595 Sacred Blood will be available October 1.

Also a couple notes I'm somewhat surprised I need to make, in response to private messages I've been getting, are at the top of the content notes. Some readers have been claiming Christian isn't the sort to make his proclivities so known to his staff, that Mrs. Jones and Christian wouldn't have ever been intimate, and that Christian alone started the corporation and runs it all by himself. Head over and check out the Content Notes section for some explanations I'm surprised I need to give.

* * *

New Year's Day, One Year Later, The Palazzo, Las Vegas

I pour a little wine on Liz's bare belly and she laughs in surprise, her eyes sparkling in delight.

"Jason! That's cold!" She grabs the glass from my hand and raises her head to take a sip.

"I did the same thing last year, Sweetheart. I can't believe you forgot." Slowly I lick the dribbling trail the wine left down her side and smile to myself at her sudden sharp inhale.

"And you did that too." Elizabeth runs a hand through my hair and pulls my head back. "But I don't think I'm up for a third time just yet."

Disbelief still fills me. One year with this woman I love. One year of her being mine, and I being hers, not just two lonely souls desperate for caring human contact. Our eyes lock and her small smile fades.

"Liz?" I bolt upright and her fingers fall from my hair. Quickly I scoot beside her on the bed and gently turn her face to me. "What's wrong?"

She licks her lips and rapidly blinks a few times, then looks away. "How long can this go one?" The words are barely more than a whisper.

A ball of lead drops into my stomach, or something that feels like it. I take a deep breath of air, realizing I had stopped taking them. My lungs didn't want to do their job, but I made them. "What do you mean?" My mouth is dry as the Nevada desert.

Elizabeth takes her time before turning her eyes back to mine. Dampness darkens her lower lashes. "We're stuck. If either of us leaves Grey's employ... I can't risk my family and you can't risk your daughter. But he won't like us being together. If he even knew I was in your room... How long can we go on like this?"

I think the chilled wine is warmer than my limbs. I din't even want to think about what she was saying. But it made sense. Except for one thing.

"His arrangement with you he considered professional, right? And he terminated your services over a year ago. Why should he care if we're in a relationship now?"

A knock sounds on the door and Elizabeth's eyes widen. She pushes herself up and races to the bathroom, gathering her clothes on the way. Just as quickly I pull on my slacks, a shirt, jacket, and my shoes. Screw the socks or underwear. I hope my hair doesn't look too messed up. What a bad time to have it grown out. After making sure the bathroom door is closed, I hope the one to the hall. My boss is waiting, and he's not smiling.

"Yes, Sir?"

Mr. Grey looks over my shoulder and searches my room. I take my cue and back up to allow him in.

"Where is she?"

Oh shit. I'm not sure what to say. Act dumb? Say she's in her room? "She's-"

"Right here, Sir."

I turn around and Elizabeth is standing just outside the bathroom door, somehow as put together as if we weren't naked just a few minutes before. She carefully keeps her chin lifted and her lips in a frown.

"Mrs. Jones, what are you doing here?" Mr. Grey sounds like a human-shaped glob of vitriol. I couldn't make myself turn toward him.

Elizabeth remains calm, at least outwardly. "Taylor called me and asked if I could think of a souvenir his daughter might like from this city. Since I was on the way out the door to grab some breakfast, I asked if he'd like to join me. We just got back."

A full minute must be passing with the woman I love and the boss we mutually loathe staring each other down. In my head a faceless refer screams, "She scooooooores!" when I hear Grey clear his throat. Damn head-ref. At least it's not an Inner God or something. I'd have to shoot myself to get it out of there.

"Well, Mrs. Lincoln needs to head back early. So we're taking off in an hour." Grey turns around and heads back down the hall without waiting for an answer. He never does.

Elizabeth pushed the door shut and traces a finger down the side of my face. "I love you, Jason Taylor, but I don't want to hide anymore. I also can't risk my job." Her voice hitches and she bites her lip. Composure is starting to slip.

My head starts throbbing in time to the increasing pace of my heart. "But we were okay j-just an hour ago."

"No. How many times over this last year has he already caught us? How many times have we had to cancel our plans because of him? This is the closest, and I'm not entirely sure he believes me."

"This is a joke, right? April Fool's months early?" Desperation. Disbelief mixing with it in a volatile cocktail. If it goes off, I won't be able to drive us home. "This is a fucking joke, Liz, I know it is. Please..."

She presses her lips against mine, silencing me. I don't know if it's all in my head, but I can still taste the last of the wine we had. Elizabeth doesn't say a word when she pulls away, just taking a step back and turning away. I want to follow her down the hall, but I can't move.

Down the hall in the opposite direction a door closes, knocking me out of my reverie. It takes a lot of effort, and my arms and legs still feel weighted down, but I stumble to the dresser and toss my stuff in my suitcase. Her wine glass on the tray still has a bit of her lipstick. I shake a pillow out of its case and carefully wrap the remnant of our last night and lay that in my bag.

What the hell am I doing stealing a wine glass? This is all a bad joke, just to make this New Year more different than last, a business trip with the boss and Elena Lincoln instead of on out own in Astoria, making it a bad day compared to newly admitted love last year. Right?

Oh god I want to finish the wine. I had one glass this morning, still a couple left in the bottle. If Elizabeth wouldn't be in the car, I might finish it and take my chances. No, no I wouldn't. Someone else's Sophie might be in the car.

Damn that Elena Lincoln, summoning the inner demon of Maris Crane and claiming trauma from being bumped from first class. Didn't that idiot boss of mine care that it's a nineteen-hour drive and I had no heads up? He didn't want to stop over a night getting here, and he probably won't want to getting back. If we actually get out of here at ten and don't come by traffic, then we will get back to Seattle at about five am tomorrow.

Someone else's Sophie could be on the road, and my Elizabeth will be. What does Grey care? As far as he thinks, he's invincible. Shoot him out of a cannon into the sun and he would swear the entire way that he'll be back the very next day to make life hell for whoever did it.

The cream and light gold of this room suddenly seem dark to me, not at all the bright and luxurious surroundings they had been when my sweet girlfriend - ex-girlfriend? - sneaked in here last night. It stated feeling like a tomb, the scene of the death of the happiest relationship I'd ever had. The good memories, the laughter and trips to the sound when the boss left town and had me stay behind, the stolen kisses down the hall, the hidden affection behind closed doors, the movies, sharing our hopes and dreams... Those things would stay in me, but I had to get out of where the relationship died.

Grey will have a bellhop take his bags down to the curb when he was ready, and Elizabeth's and Mrs. Lincoln's stuff too. I wasn't his butler, though I sometimes think I may as well be. Quick as I can, I get down the elevator, through the lobby, and out to the car, Grey's latest piece of conspicuous consumption. He really doesn't need a new custom Bentley limo this year, not after buying two other custom limos last year. He doesn't need yet another black or silver car. Almost every car he owns are those colors. But I can't really complain. I just unlock the trunk and toss my bag in, and slide into the driver seat to move the vehicle to the loading area.

The wait doesn't provide much distraction worth a damn. A couple passionately kissing hello is like a dagger in my heart. Another couple laughing turns it. Two young men shyly and quickly kissing is the only scene that warms my heart. I silently wish them the best and all the happiness so much of society still wants to deny them. After what feels like an hour my passengers exit and continue toward the car. Elizabeth's eyes are cast to the ground.

I get out of the car and open the trunk on the way to the passenger door. The boss's "friend" gets in first, followed by Grey, and I close it. Then I can open the front door for Elizabeth.

"Thank you," she whispers, keeping her glance downward.

"I love you, Liz," I quietly tell her in return.

She gasps and slightly lurches forward, but catches her balance. I close the door behind here, realizing we will be secluded in the front of the cab until morning if the boss wants the screen up as he did getting here. I get back in the driver seat and sigh in gratitude that the dark glass is up. He won't be able to see or hear us.

Elizabeth leans slightly forward to turn the radio on. For a brief moment she stops on a station playing an old Beatles song.

_Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away..._

I hit the gas a bit too hard and someone knocks on the glass and the boss yells, "Easy!"

John Lennon's words rang so true, and didn't help distract me. I want to turn the station, but Elizabeth wants to hear the song. Why does she had to go, like Lennon's unnamed lover? I don't understand why she has to go, though part of me calls myself a liar.

To the best of my ability I mentally tune out the lyrics and sing to myself, "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, a..." What the hell comes next? Oh, who cares. Part of my life just fell apart, my world is empty, and I'm thinking about a stupid song?

In the center console my phone vibrates just as I merge onto the freeway heading north. Without taking my eyes from the road I pick up my phone. Elizabeth's soft hand lays on top of mine and her other takes the phone to check my message for me. The pattern we developed still feels so natural.

"Sophie says Happy New Year."

I try to smile. I hope Elizabeth will still want to see Sophie. That little girl loves the woman she asked me to make her second mother. "Please tell her the same and that I love her."

Elizabeth's thumb taps against the screen and she puts the phone back into the console. She hasn't let go of my hand, and I'm not planning to take it back. Slowly, like she's not sure if she should, the moves it into her lap and slips her free hand beneath it. One of her thumbs rubs against the back of my fingers.

"I love you too, Jason. You just deserve better than this sneaking around, and I need to not have this fear of discovery. But I still love you."

"I deserve you, Liz. But I'll let you go without trying to stop you if this isn't what you need." It hurt. Hearing the words come out of my mouth hurt, but they're true. Her needs come before what I want. Between her and Sophie, they're my everything, but I can't make her feel trapped. I'll step back and give her the space she needs.

In my peripheral vision I can see her staring at me, and I turn toward her. For a brief moment her eyes, shining with unshed tears, gaze into mine.

"I love you." Those words came easy. The next ones want to stick, but I force them out. "But you're free, and I wish you well."

Her hands tighten around mine, and though I and once again watching the road, I know she's quietly crying. Her sniffles are soft, but still there. I can't hold her and I don't know what's appropriate to say. So I tell her the only words I can think of to say.

"We'll be all right, Liz. Things will work out for the best. For both of us."


	9. Chapter 9

Please enter my novel giveaway and help spread the link! giveaway/show/52595-sacred-blood ONly a few days left! Sacred Blood will be available December 1.

Now that my unexpected move is almost over and I'm good from surgery, I'm going to get back on a regular posting schedule. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

I still can't believe she really meant it. I push my glass aside and grab the entire bottle of whiskey and take a long drink. A red circle on the calendar catches my eye as I set the bottle back down. The back crosses through each preceding date remind me I'm going to be forced to get through Valentine's Day. How can I forget? Pink and red heart everywhere. It's today.

What sadistic asshole decided to make a holiday dedicated to love named after a saint who needs quotes around the word? Oh yeah, Hallmark. Show her you love her with a goddamned card covered in flowers and the same prose thousand of other schmucks will pick up too. Really personal.

Sophie's card for Liz- no, Gail...Mrs. Jones...none of them feel right. A little card in a pink envelop for...her...waits on a shelf. I still can't tell my daughter the truth. What a shitty dad I am. She deserves better. God, just a few more days and there'll be another custody hearing. Marissa thinks she should get more child support. The attorney is ready to rake her across the coals for not even trying to get a job.

I don't want to think. This alcohol isn't helping anything. Careful, I stand up and stumble to the kitchen and reach up above the fridge to grab a paper bag. The boss would kill me if he knew, but fuck him and the horse he thinks he rode in on.

Somehow I get back to the couch and pull a piece of white paper to me and shake some green leaves out of the bag and grab the packet of rolling papers. I slightly crumble the herb, lay it in a row on the paper, and roll it up. I slick the joint between my lips, light it, and take a deep hit.

Almost immediately the tension in my head eases up. For the first time in 46 days I can breathe without my chest aching. Sooner or later this stuff will be legal. I lay money on Washington being the first state. Slowly I lean back and stare at the ceiling, looking for patterns in the popcorny stuff. Lazy, I reach out to the coffee table to find the stereo remote and hit the play button. I swear, "Dark Side of the Moon" is the best album to listen to while smoking. It's not listening to music. It's an experience.

Pure relaxation takes hold of me. As long as I don't think about Liz and what she might be doing tonight, I can make it until morning. An icy hand grabs my heart, but the heat of another drag melts it away. And another hit. And another. My head's swirling and finally I think I can sleep. I think my hand's moving in slow motion, but I don't know. It gets to the ash tray and smashes the last bit out.

I don't even care that I'm still dressed. My eye close, and I see how far forward I can count. I get to one, two, three, four, five, sex, no, six...

February passes in a haze. March. April. It's easier to call her Mrs. Jones. Every encounter with her has been nothing but cold professionalism. I think I'm more likely to get a hug from the boss than I am from her.

Grey's been occupied with some new piddly stuff at his dad's company. A goose chase is what he's on, but he's too self-important to realize that. At least it's keeping him busy. Some college kid has been pestering him for an interview, and he's pissed that the company gave her university a donation for some farm program.

His secretary's going to be sacked for scheduling the interview to happen. I realize how routine my life's become, how day in, day out, it is, when I realize I'm feeling a little excitement over this. I'll be the one giving her her walking papers today. Grey decided to wait until the interview was over. Hell if I know why.

Grey's office door's closed. I'm watching the bastard at his desk leaning over a book. I'm mildly curious what he's reading. But my phone vibrates and distracts me. I pull it out of my pocket, shocked that it's from Mrs. Jones. She hadn't sent me a message in a while.

_Watch out for the girl today. Mr. Grey's got wandering hands._

Oh shit. I glance up at him, and he's staring at me.

"What's that?" he snaps?

I quickly double click and hit the first icon I see. "Angry Birds."

"That wasn't a text?" He raises an eyebrow, seemingly suspicious.

I shake my head. "Push notification, a heads up about a daily power-up."

His head cocks to the side. I don't think he believes me, so I shrug and look down, hoping to look innocent. With my left finger I fling the red birds. How appropriate. I need a bomb bird to get through the stones, but life gives me useless red birds.

"My interview's in fifteen," he says with a sigh and shucks his book. "Head down and keep an eye out for who she might be. College age, that's all I know. Send me a text when you see her. Let me know what she looks like and how she rates."

"Sure." Why can't I punch the guy for sending me to judge the fuckability of an unsuspecting college kid? Oh, right, my balls are in a vice grip. I force my eyes to not roll and head out of his office and down the elevator. I wait in the lobby until I see a young lady. She can't be more than eighteen. But no one else looks around the right age rang.

_Purple dress, long brown hair, cute, I think you'd find her an 8._

If I could kick myself, I would. She's a lamb heading to the slaughter and I can't warn her. I watch helplessly as she steps into an elevator, grateful that another set of doors open before hers close. I hop into the second one and punch the boss's floor and press my thumb impatiently onto the button for closing the doors without waiting. Overhead the numbers light up one by one until I hit the right floor, and I say a prayer to a god I don't even believe in that she's not going to be there. But the doors glide open revealing her walking to the secretary.

I let the doors close instead of getting out and don't care where the box takes me. It goes only a floor down, then back up. Ah, great, a second look. Maybe she only stopped for directions. The doors glide open and I spot her tripping over nothing as she heads through his door. _Shit. _ Shit.

There's nothing I can do but wait. So I get off and grab a seat to wait, and Angry Birds it is. I don't keep track of how long I play. I just do it. Play and wait. Play and wait. At last the door swings open and the girl steps out. I don't think he fucked her, but she looks stunned by something. Her mouth hangs open and she doesn't really see anything. Behind her Grey crooks his finger at me and I silently hurry through the door behind her back and he closes it.

"I expected a woman named Katherine Kavanagh. I got an Anastasia Steele." Grey sneers an keeps his eyes cast down.

I know he is thinking about another conquest. All he still has to do is give a command I hope doesn't come. Please let me be wrong and let that Anastasia girl be safe.

He steeples his fingers and taps his nose without looking at me. "Taylor, run a full scan on her. I don't want a single secret. So include financials on this one."

"Sir?"

Grey's hands drop to the table and he presses his palms down. "I want to know where she stands financially. Ms. Kavanagh was well-off. She wouldn't have been as fun. Ms. Steele might be a good match for me. I want a few months with her. But i need the details. All of them."

The air conditioner kicks on, dousing me in an icy blast. It matches the chill spreading through my veins. "Sir, this one seems a bit innocent to me. I watched her walk in and she didn't look comfortable in her own sk-"

"Stop." The boss's tone is harsh. "Take that file and go."

I should have known he won't listen. I bow my head, grab the file he's staring at, and back out of his office without another word. Well, the systems to invade privacy are all at his home, and he wants the info, so I head to the car, hop in, and force myself to think about the other cars on the road, the road itself, anything to alleviate the guilt I feel already at helping the lion prepare the lamb.

Quick as I safely can, I drive the vehicle to the Escala and rush upstairs. Please don't let her be-

I don't get the chance to finish my though. Mrs. Jones opens the door. A couple lines between her brows betray her calm demeanor.

"Jas- I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor, did he..." She opens the door wider to let me through and then closes it after I walk through.

I nod curtly. "It's someone else. She can't be far out of high school. Little thing, looked embarrassed to be there. Whoever was supposed to show up didn't."

"Dammit. I know he wasn't interested in who he was supposed to meet because her family's rich. Does he want to know the same about this one?"

I turn around and gawk at her. "How did you know that?"

Mrs. Jones smooths the front of her skirt. "Do you really think you're the only one he has run background checks on people?"

She's right, and I know it. There's no chance he's trusting either of us with everything. I can't really care less about that, but I care very much about the task at hand. Angry, I slap the folder on the spotless counter.

"What can I do, Liz? Should I lie?"

"Mrs. Jones," she corrects softly.

"Mrs. Jones," I repeat, noting the edge in my own voice.

She sighs. "Please don't be mad. You know why we're using formalities."

Yeah, I know. Distance. I'm already feeling unease having to do this bad deed for the boss, and I don't need to feel the stab of her forcing space when I need someone to talk to. I snatch up the folder and storm down the hall to my office and slam the door behind me. Huffing and clenching my jaw, I move the mouse to wake up my computer, click on an icon to open a new file, and start flipping through the few pages in the folder.

Quieter than a whisper, I speak to air. "Miss Steele, if you know what's good for you, you'll run. Please forgive me for what I'm about to do to you, and please, please run."


	10. CONTENT NOTES

I've had a couple people apologize for leaving "too many" reviews. No such thing! Review each chapter if you're like. I enjoy reviews. :)

I'm in the last round of editing, and then Sacred Blood will go to press! Between time again for this fic and that, I've got some exciting things coming up!

* * *

I've watched other women walk into the boss's life - and pathetically named "Red Room of Pain" - and didn't think much of it. But this feels different. Something's just... I can't pinpoint it. Maybe it's because he didn't go looking for her.

This young lady, this Anastasia Steele, is just an impulse buy for him. I know that's what he has in mind. He wants to buy her, woo her with his money. That's just how he operates, at least when he's on the market.

The printer finishes its job as I'm almost finished with mine. Gingerly I pick up the newest sheet and glance at it. Her social security number, her birthdate, every bank account she's ever had, her mother and step-father have ever had, her father... Man, that one's getting to me. He's a brother in uniform, killed the day after she was born. If the government knew I tapped the database for this information, I'd probably be sent on my way to prison for a few decades, stuck with the knowledge of how he died. I don't think Miss Steele or her mother know the details.

Soon the printer falls silent, and I stack the pages and stick them in a folder. "16. Anastasia Steele," I write on the tab. Is she 16? I don't even know for sure. Grey's not the most honest of men. God, I hope this girl doesn't end up like the last. I can't believe Grey's still got that dangerous suspension system in his playroom, not after he proved his ineptitude and paralyzed that poor woman from the neck down. Suicide attempt, he's forced us to claim. Who would believe a woman who tried killing herself after sex?

For a brief moment I consider marching into the bastard's office and telling him to shove the folder up his ass. But Sophie's face floats into my mind. I trust her doctors, but her chances are slim... No, I can't think about her right now. A child shouldn't suffer an organ failure. My heart is squeezed by knowing someone else's child had to die so mine could live. Guilt racks my soul that my daughter only got an organ so quickly because the boss pulled some strings in Indonesia. I don't know how it happened, but I can't believe he had someone killed. He can't be that evil, could he?

I tap the folder against my palm and focus on the soft sound it makes to distract myself from the ringing in my head. Silently I step toward the door and yank it open, still phantom-feeling the folder. For all I know the illicit information turned the paper into metal and burned me.

My shoes make no sound down the hallway, just like the boss likes it. Quiet. Not much sound other that the music that sometimes emanates from his Bose system when he wants to convince someone he's cultured, or the screams of women under his flogger, or chains, or whatever he uses in there. Whatever floats their boat, though I don't think this new girl would know what she's getting herself in for. If that article her friend wrote about college virgins a couple months ago is correct, then the boss is aiming for someone who hasn't even kissed a guy unless something's changed in the last eight weeks.

_Run, Anastasia!_

I pass the kitchen and Gail Elizabeth Jones catches my eye. I turn my head toward her briefly and nod, not slowing my stride.

"Jason?" she softly calls.

It's been so long since she called me by my first name that I stop and tun around. "Miss Jones?" I ask, fighting to keep bitterness out of my voice. I shouldn't feel this way. After all, she has still been there for my precious daughter. Sophie didn't know her beloved Lizzie had broken her daddy's heart.

Miss Jones's - Elizabeth's? - eyes flicked toward the file in my hand. She lays a spoon next to a cup of tea and opens her mouth, but closes it before saying anything.

I wave it at her. "New conquest."

She looks back at me, her eyebrows drawn together. "You look concerned. Is everything okay?"

"No. I'll be back in a minute and'll tell you more." Great, now I've got to actually talk to her. Like a petulant school boy, I pout inwardly over having to talk to the girl-woman who rejected me.

As quick as I can I double the distance between us and walk into Grey's office, not bothering to knock. I toss the folder into his desk, watching a few pieces of paper slide out from the force.

Grey says nothing and picks it up. He thumbs through to the finances page. Of course. That's what he cares about. He scans it and places it face down next to the book he had been reading. Then he slips back to the page Miss Steele's friend had written and doesn't even bother reading. He rolls his eyes and feeds it to the shredder next to his desk.

I stand silently, hands clasped behind my back, waiting for him to excuse me. I don't want to stand here. The clock on the wall blinks and changes minutes. Several long ones pass. I'm grateful when Miss Jones walks in and sets a tray with some Earl Grey - the conceited bastard's favorite - on the edge of his desk.

Grey looks over at it, then at me. "Taylor," he says as his greeting. "Good job. You're dismissed for the evening. But keep your phone with you." He lowered his face back to the documents without any acknowledgement of his housekeeper.

I say nothing and turn around, keeping my steps slow until I reach the door, exit, and close it with a click.

A hand on my elbow startles me. Almost instinctively I reach out and pull her body toward me, enveloping her in my arms and breathing her strawberry scent. Her arms circling behind my back and her head pressing against my chest make me ache. I've missed her and want to stand like this as long as I can.

"Jason!" she whispers, pulling away. Her eyes widen. "We can't."

_Why?_ I ask in my head. But I don't question her. I just open my arms and let her go. Only letting go of my daughter is harder. A small amount of hope surges through me as her hand takes mine.

We walk in silence to the kitchen, and she steers me toward a high bar stool at the counter. Obediently I take it and see she has prepared a couple cups of tea. She sets one in front of me. I guess she remembers how I like it. She didn't offer sugar. One sip lets me know she already took care of sweetening it for me, with just a little lemon. I don't know why it warms my heart.

She leans against the counter toward me, her eyes bright. It almost looks like she wants to cry. "How is Sophie?"

My heart grows heavy. "Better," I croak. "Doctors are hopeful she'll be okay and live a normal life. She asked for you on the phone this morning."

"They kicked me out yesterday before I got to the room." Her voice hitches. "I love that little girl. But her mother gave an order that I'm not allowed in."

I clench my jaw, surprised my teeth don't shatter. Of course the bitch of an ex would do that. She's never there, and the nurses told me she stops in only every couple days. But no, my daughter can't have someone who loves her. With a lot of effort I loosen my jaw. "I'll talk to them. I have a say too. Sophie adores the hell out of you, and you deserve to be in her life. If they want to give me a problem, I'll...as much as I hate to, I'll talk to Grey about it."

Her slender hands dips into a pocket in her skirt and she pulls out a small pouch. "Thank you. Please give this to her. My grandmother gave it to me when I was about her age and had chickenpox. There are six little dolls, and you tell each one a wish before bed, and put them in the pouch under your pillow. Silly, but it made me feel better."

I hold out my hand for it and smile when she presses my fingers against her smooth cheek. God, my hand has missed the feel of her. "I'll see her tonight. I'd like it if you come with me."

Elizabeth smiles. "Get the hospital situation cleared up first, and then maybe."

I smile back at her, but my thoughts are distracted by the office door opening. Quickly I pull my hand away and lift the teacup and Elizabeth grabs a cloth and wipes the counter. The boss, folder under his arm, walks by and doesn't seem to notice us. He goes straight through the front door and it automatically locks when he closes it.

"What's going on with what's-her-name?" Elizabeth asks nonchalantly.

I close my eyes and drop my head. Oh, where to begin... "He's taken an interest in someone who is very innocent and wouldn't know what she's getting into. Her name's Anastasia Steele, and she's about to graduate college. She wouldn't be if it wasn't for her roommate and some program at the college. The best way to describe this girl is 'special.' A lot of anxiety, co-dependency issues, and guilt over seeing her step-dad as her dad because her biological one died when she was born. She has been under psychiatric care most of her life. She needs protection from the creep, but there's nothing we can do. I hope he'll realize she's not the one, but I don't know. Maybe he's wanting someone younger and innocent now."

"How the hell do you get this stuff?"

I smirk and roll my eyes. "Committing a few felonies for the sake of my job. The boss think he's worth it, but it's Sophie. I'll sacrifice a truck load of Anastasias for her."

"I'll help you." Her voice next to my ear startles me.

I turn my head as my eyes open. Her face is so close I can feel her soft breath on my lips. "Miss Jones, I..." I can't think of what to say to her. My chest aches.

She licks her lips and stared into my eyes. She blinks and a tear falls. "Liz."

"Liz." I raise a hand and wipe the tear. "I miss you."

"And I you. But maybe if Grey wants something different, maybe you and I can have a chance again." A small smile touches her lips.

"A truckload of Anastasias."

Elizabeth nods.

A swell of love and longing fight in my soul against my father's desire to protect a brother's daughter. I won't turn away the woman I love if we have a chance. I won't turn away my daughter's happiness. I don't want to turn away Anastasia. There has to be a way to have my cake and eat it too. I just don't know what it is.


	11. Notes on Content

A few concerns people keep messaging me about:

1) Regarding Leila leashed, we know Christian likes to go fast. Going slow just isn't his method. He lacks patience. It's not like he took time slowly introducing Ana, who he knew was a virgin who had never even masturbated, to his lifestyle. Everything that happened in the first book happened in about a month. Ana had never met him at the start, then went from being a virgin thinking penis-in-vagina sex is somewhat perverted to being tied up and beaten and learning quickly that Christian WILL have his way with her and is even turned on by her saying No to sex (in the boathouse he told her he was turned on by her saying no with closing her legs, and so he had to have her even though he knew she wasn't up for it - so much for consent). Leila leashed in front of Taylor a year and a half prior to this chapter is something that is going to be addressed in chapter nine. But it's the same sort of thing.

2) The only evidence we have that Christian and Mrs. Jones have never had any intimacy is from the mouth of Christian himself, as Christian is known to be less than truthful. Blondes aren't usually his type because it's the brunettes who remind him of his birth mother, and this is what made her a safe person, in his mind, to go to when overwhelmed. He wasn't so safe with the brunette birth mother, but found safety with his blonde adoptive mother. Christian and Ana really have spent very little time together. We only ever see of him what Ana sees, and there is plenty of time he could be doing who knows what. We know he's lied about how many women he's had sex with, at times claiming fifteen prior sexual subs, then claiming sex with fewer of them, and telling Ana he doesn't do long term, then later saying he had long term with four of them. He is so inconsistent that there's no reason to believe he didn't have a sexual relationship with Mrs. Jones that, in his mind, was all professional. Remember this is the guy who doesn't think there is anything wrong with a middle-aged woman coming onto, and having sex with, a 15-year-old. He doesn't see things the way normal people do.

3) There is no way in hell Christian started that business all by himself and runs it by himself, especially the way he does, and I guarantee it. I've had a hand in starting corporations, and am connected with people who run some I can guarantee you you have heard of, and there is always a board. As far as Christian leads Ana to believe, he is the sole person running it. This wouldn't be a corporation. Nor can he spontaneously decide to buy companies under the current company umbrella without a whole lot more time and work that deciding one day to buy more buildings or another company or two. There will be shareholders involved, and they won't back some rich kid deciding to buy some seemingly random publishing house or bailing on business meetings across the country because his new wife went out for drinks with a friend. His nonchalant treatment of this country is strong evidence that he is absolutely not in control. His claim to be the one running everything is shakier than Mark Zuckerberg's claim that he, and he alone, founded Facebook (he was sued over that and had to pay the CO-founder a whole lot of money, and it was proven that he was approached by Harvard to create the system for students to connect, so he didn't even come up with the idea, and he didn't use his own money to fund it, though he wants us to believe he pulled a Christian Grey, did some magic, and headed it all by his brilliant little self). If you start from the ground up using only your very own earned money instead of parental money or loans, the way Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniac did, it's going to take a lot longer to have personal billions to blow, and you won't be a billionaire by 27.

As for how much control the CEO really has, just take a look at Steve Jobs. He was kicked out of the company he started by the board of directors. That's right, even founding a company doesn't keep you safe from them, nor can you have a corporation without a board of directors. If Christian was right in the middle of things as he wants Ana to believe, the board would kick his ass out of the company so fast for trying to buy other businesses without going through the proper channels that his head would spin.

So, without a doubt, someone else is pulling the strings for that company. There is no other explanation for how a guy who spends so much time vacationing and can leave meetings over trivial things can be in the one and only person behind a company's success, and there's no way he started such a massively large company off of money he earned on his own as a teen and young adult. I'll bet the hidden board of directors is really thrilled with a young guy bailing on them and wanting the world to think he is the only one running things. Chances are he's a puppet for the one most likely to have funded the starting of the company, and chances are those are his parents, and his involvement isn't quite as in-the-middle as he things. Corporations just don't work like that, nor do business sales or mergers or anything else.

* * *

DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHEN SEX WILL HAPPEN BEFORE YOU GET THERE. This is for the benefit of those who want a heads-up on explicit sex scenes.

* * *

Chapter 1

Nothing

* * *

Chapter 2

Nothing

* * *

Chapter 3

Nothing

* * *

Chapter 4

Nothing

* * *

Chapter 5

Sexual scene toward the end of the chapter. You have an idea it's coming before it happens.

* * *

Chapter 6

Nothing

* * *

Chapter 7

No sex or nudity, just some mild teasing.

* * *

Chapter 8

No explicit nudity or sex, though Jason and Elizabeth start off naked.

* * *

Chapter 9

No nudity or sex, but there is some pot use. By the way, pot, even recreationally, is legal in Washington state.

* * *

Chapter 10

Nothing at all.


End file.
